


To the Ends of the Earth and the Edges of Maps

by 123PixieAOD



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Drug Addiction, F/M, Falco is an innocent in all this, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Injury, Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rabbits, Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Spoilers, Swearing, Unrequited Love, alternative, poor bby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 79,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123PixieAOD/pseuds/123PixieAOD
Summary: Set eight years after the manga ends, Mikasa, Armin and Jean live together in the deserted Shiganshina region. Cast away by the government, the three desperately research how to break the Ymir Curse while trying to navigate their own relationships. One day though, they receive some unexpected news of Eren - a possible sighting of him way down on the Hizuru border. Eight years since they last saw Eren, the three decide to go and find him, to bring him back...Updated daily!
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 484
Kudos: 377





	1. Chapter One - Mikasa

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So just a quick note, there are spoilers throughout this work! I accidently spoilt loads of parts of the manga, so please save yourself from the pain! At the time of writing, manga 136 was the latest released, so that's far the spoilers get to. As the manga isn't completely finished, I've basically chosen who I think (or want lol) to live, and who will die at the end of the manga. Now that's out of the way, please enjoy! This is my first fanfiction on this site, so I would love to know what you guys think! xxx

_Mikasa_

Mikasa grunted, wiping away beads of sweat from her forehead. It was unusually warm for the time of year, and the sun directly above beat down relentlessly. She looked down, at the bulbs in her palm. She had wanted to wait just a few more weeks to avoid the risk of them sprouting early, but didn’t dare put it off much longer.

They seemed so small and lifeless, like round, white pebbles. She couldn’t imagine the bundle of life each bulb had buried within, the explosion of colour and fragrance and beauty waiting to be activated.

She began to place them in the little dirt holes she had prepared that afternoon. She hoped they’d look the same as how she remembered them from her childhood; five petals in the shape of a star, shades of periwinkle and purples.

She liked to visit the grave most afternoons. When Armin and Jean settled down for lunch, wordlessly she’d slip out of the small hut and cross the meadow, taking the route she had as a child collecting wood.

It wasn’t really a grave. Eren’s body wasn’t buried beneath where she knelt; there was no tombstone declaring his name.

Mikasa had made it their first summer in the hut, around a year after he’d died. She picked a spot across the prairie, both a viewing point of Shiganshina and their hut.

She hadn’t told the other two. Just one afternoon had picked up the shovel and headed out. She could remember them glancing at her as she left, but if either of them had noticed she was wearing her red scarf again, they hadn’t mentioned it.

She had been surprised at how hard the earth had been. The shovel’s tip bit the earth, but didn’t budge any further. She had had to raise it even higher, her foot throwing her weight unto the blade for the shovel to sink a little further in.

Her breathes had come out in short bursts, her muscles burning, and tears mixed with sweat as she worked. It felt good though. She knew Eren wouldn’t have been pleased if it had been easy.

She hadn’t heard the other two approach, and had started when Jean appeared beside her. Without looking at her, he dug his spade into the hole and began to work.

Armin was near, by the forest edge. His head bent, and Mikasa watched him for a moment collect stones before she returned to work.

Jean hadn’t asked her how deep they had to dig, but stopped when she did. They both leant against their shovels, their soft pants mingling in the otherwise silent air. Mikasa hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a little pile of black and grey stones growing beside them.

When Armin returned with another armful of rocks, her and Jean had managed to somewhat catch their breathes.

“What now? It’s not like there’s a body or anything to-“ Jean shut up quickly when he noticed Mikasa unravelling the scarf.

She looked down at it, feeling the soft material between her fingers one last time.

_Goodbye Eren._

_And thank you._

The scarf hit the earth with the a soft thud. It looked like an animal, curled up on itself - soft and sleep. At peace.

“I have his ODM gear. I found it in the barracks and couldn’t bear to...” Armin’s voice faded, and he turned and ran back to the hut. A few minutes later he was back, his arms full.

He walked carefully, as if holding a newborn swathed in cloth. When Jean leaned over to move the fabric away, the familiar shine of metal blinded all three. He hissed, stepping back.

For a moment, the party seemed frozen, captivated by the shine. But then Armin’s arm trembled, and the sun’s ray lost contact and faded, returning the bundle in his arms back to dull metal.

Mikasa leaned forward, her fingertip whispered across the cool surface. She could imagine Eren swinging through the sky, flying with great abandon through a forest. And her a few moments behind, shouting at him to be careful.

A smile tugged at her lips when she stepped back, allowing Armin to carefully lie it down in the hole.

The three stood there, side by side in silence. Then Jean turned and left, leaving Mikasa and Armin.

“There’s not really much to be said, is there?” Armin’s voice was soft as he looked down.

“He chose his own path, it was his freedom to do so.” The hardness in Mikasa’s voice surprised even her.

After another moment, she turned, grabbed one of the shovels and began to fill the hole in. Armin helped, and when the turned earth was back in its place, the two arranged the stones Armin had collected on top of the mound.

His body may not have been buried beneath those stone, but there was other things beneath her; things that were surely as much a part of him as his bones were.

Her fingers pressed down the earth, covering the bulbs. She opened the flask of of water she had taken for herself and emptied it over them, looking up at the sky as she did so.

She doubted there’d be rain for at least a good few days – she’d have to remember to water the plot again tomorrow.

Although it was more work, she found planting a far better option than just picking flowers like she had done for the first few years. Picked flowers wilted so damn quickly. It was just bringing more death to Eren. At least with planting, she was introducing life to him.

She knew in her hearts of hearts Eren wouldn’t care about any of this. If he was beside her right now (the _real_ Eren, _her_ Eren) he would laugh at her.

_Isn’t there bigger things on your plate right now then flowers blooming Mikasa?!_

She could hear his high-pitched laugh, see him running away from her but turning just before he reached the forest, waiting for her to follow.

She stood, stretching, and turned back towards the hut.


	2. Chapter Two - Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some dialogue! Also thank you so much for the response on chapter 1, I hope ye all like this chapter :) Just a reminder, manga spoilers throughout x

_Jean_

Jean tapped his fingers against the glass. She had started bulbing today, and as he watched Mikasa leaned back and looked up, her face half hidden by dark hair, and half lit by sunlight.

“Contrary to popular believe, staring at a girl intensely from a far does not equate to talking to her.”

Jean spun around, scowling at Armin.

“Especially if she’s doing something quite solemn, such as tending to a memorial.” Armin didn’t look up from the book he was reading, but couldn’t stop the curve of his lips as he spoke.

Which only pissed Jean off even more.

“I wasn’t _staring_ at her, I was checking out “ - Jean leaned over to slap the top of Armin’s head, but he dodged it just in time – “the weather.”

“Is that what she’s called now.” Armin laughed, holding his hardback book like a shield to deflect Jean’s hand.

“Listen here you little-“

The door opened. Jean jumped back from Armin just as Mikasa entered.

She was finally beginning to grow her hair, and it swept into a loose ponytail. Her face, though red from a combination of sun and work, managed to retain a graceful air. She was wearing a slim-fitted white top tucked into loose beige trousers, a brown jacket draped over her arm. The new uniform of the Scout Regiment. Her trouser and arm sleeves had been rolled up though, revealing skin red from being leaned on and crumbs of dark earth.

“What’s going on here?” She turned to shut the door behind her.

“Nothing, we’re all good here, just-“

Jean took the momentary distraction to whack Armin’s head playfully.

“Now we’re good.”

“Ow!” Armin rubbed the back of his head, but was smiling.

“Careful, don’t hit him too hard, you might unleash the Colossus Titan.” Mikasa went to hang up her jacket.

Jean smiled but didn’t laugh. Poor Armin. He had all but been exiled into this middle-of-nowhere hut, surrounded by fields and a still abandoned town. When Armin’s request to live by the sea had been turned down, despite him being the commanding officer, him and Mikasa had suspected something was up. When every single one of his requests to live in a city or town came back rejected, they had _known._

The youngest commander of the scouts. Mastermind to more than a few now-famous attacks. Every single one of those bastards in the brass owed their life to him. And their thanks? They shoved him in the middle of nowhere with only two idiots and a couple of hundred books for company. The fact Queen Historia had done nothing to help her former friend made it even more painful.

Ironically, Armin was the one who had to calm Jean and Mikasa down when they found out.

_Who could blame them? They’re just protecting the people of Paradis. If I do an Eren and go kaboom, all the work we’ve put into rebuilding the world would be for nothing. I’m lucky the queen doesn't order my execution to be honest._

Him and Mikasa had launched themselves from their chairs at that, each about to declare some declaration to Armin’s life. When one person does it it’s noble; when two do it it’s melodramatic, and they both instantly deflated. They made eye contact as they meekly took their seats again, and Mikasa had smiled softly at him, at their mutual understanding.

Christ he was pathetic.

“Hey Earth to Jean.” Armin waved a hand in front of Jean’s face, and he jumped. “I asked have you seen the map I’ve been working on?”

Jean looked around. Mikasa was long gone. His mum was right, he needed to get out of his head more.

“Umm yeah I think I saw it…” Jean rummaged through the paper detritus that had collected on the desk. Books, scrolls, scribbled notes, scraps, and a ….

With triumph Jean flourished the map above his head, before handing it to Armin.

“Thanks. I decided it might be worth tracking where each Beast Titan received the power, see if there’s any correlation.” He showed Jean, who nodded politely but without understanding.

“Any breakthrough?”

Armin sighed, lowering the map. “You know there’s not.” He wasn’t angry, just tired, and Jean rested a hand on his shoulder in solidarity.

“To be honest Jean, it just all feels so –“

“Don’t you dare say hopeless.”

The two men jumped at the voice from behind them, and turned to see Mikasa coming down the stairs. She was towel drying her hair, and was wearing a fresh uniform. She had left the top button open, either on purpose or by accident, and Jean could see the shadow of a collarbone peaking out from porcelain skin.

His eyes immediately shot to the floor, his cheeks violently warming.

“All this work we’ve done. All these years the three of us have spent researching and working and reading. It’s not for nothing. It’s not hopeless.” She moved closer, and Jean looked up, forcing himself to play it cool. She ignore him completely though (which suited him just fine), and reached for Armin.

“We’ll find the solution soon. It doesn’t matter that you only have a year left of your titan time, we’ll figure it out long before the year’s up. Falco is continuously finding new leads. Together, we’ll work it out. We’ll fix it. I won’t let you go too.”

Jean often felt like he was intruding on shared moments between the two, and this was one of those time. He looked around the room, as if to distance himself from their conversation and make it more private.

When they had first arrived the hut had been abandoned since the Fall of Shiganshina. Half rotten, the home of many bugs and beetle, it had been an mammoth undertaking to clean it out and make it livable.

He had only meant to stay with the two of them until the work was done, until he was sure that the hut wouldn’t fall on top of their heads. When it was done, he and Armin shared a room while Mikasa had the other one. Armin had invited him to stay for another day, to help Mikasa collect the books he needed for research from Trost as Armin wasn’t allowed near the town.

He had agreed, and still hadn’t left yet.

The hut now was almost unrecognisable to the bare, dark place they’d moved into. Books filled every available surface and a percent of the floor, towering piles which were forever threatening to fall. On the walls, maps and theories and letters from Falco pinned up. There were even a few treasured notes left by Pieck during her last year.

It wasn’t all harsh paper and hard books though. Over the years the three of them had scavenged some furniture and curtains from a few abandoned farm houses near, and the hut was now a mismatch of white paper and battered but colourful upholstery. Even though it was as far removed as possible from the fine, city apartments he had once dreamed of, the hut had slowly grown on him.

Whether he liked it or not, it was his home now.

Mikasa was still embracing Armin, and when she broke away she stared ferociously at him.

“You’re not giving up hope are you? Because you can’t. Not when me and Jean are still with you.”

Jean looked over, surprised at being included. Mikasa’s fierce gaze looked back at him, and before he could react she had grabbed his wrist, her cool fingers like fire against his warm skin.

“The three of us are in it together, alright?” She looked back at Armin, his wrist gripped in her other hand. “And we’re going to figure it out. We’ve overcome every challenge thrown at us, survived every obstacle, and we’ll get through this too.”

“The three of us together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor lil lovestruck Jean :(


	3. Chapter Three - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw wow thank you all so much on the response on the first two chapters! Honestly made me so happy :'). Also, I actually went slightly mad over the last week waiting for uni to start, and now have around the next 30 chapters of this fic done. I don't see the point in letting them gather dust, so I'd say I'll be uploading a new chapter one or twice daily. So keep an eye out for chapter 4 sometime tonight :) Thanks again for all the lovely feedback and bookmarking! Enjoy x

_Armin_

Armin stared down at the book in his hands. He had been reading the same page for the past ten minutes, but each time he reached the bottom he realised he hadn’t taken anything in. It wasn’t like him, and he didn’t like it.

Accepting defeat, Armin sighed and closed the book just as Jean pounded down the stairs. It was Sunday, and the three of them had an unspoken agreement that Sunday was their rest day. Mikasa still woke up at dawn, only instead of getting reading she’d head to the marketplace at Trost, arriving just as the stalls were opening. She’d return with enough food to last the week normally around the time Armin woke up, and together they would prepare breakfast and put away her shopping. Then Mikasa would go to the memorial and Armin would sit reading.

Their wonderfully scheduled day was always in deep contrast to Jean’s, who took immense joy in sleeping for as long as possible, eating as much as possible, and then doing whatever he felt like the rest of the day.

“Good morning!” He called from the kitchen. Another thing about Sundays; while Armin and Mikasa were in the exact same moods as they were every other day, Jean was always unnervingly cheerfully.

“Unfortunately you missed morning by about three hours.” Armin called back, his voice abruptly softening when Jean walked back into the room. “You’re skipping breakfast?”

He held up an apple in response, and went to put on his jacket.

Armin’s eyebrows raised. Jean normally never left the kitchen on Sundays without a stomach full with fried eggs, toast and bacon.

“I’m going out, slept in a bit though. I want to be back before it’s dark so have to rush out.” He explained, noticing Armin’s puzzled expression.

“Can I come!?” Armin hadn’t meant to ask so loudly. He sounded like a child, ever hopeful and ever ignorant of social cues.

Another unspoken rule of Sundays was that it was the one day the three spent by themselves. Armin bit his lip, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean there’s-“

“’course. Just come on, don’t want to be late!” Jean tossed Armin’s jacket at him and gestured him towards the door.

“What’s the hurry?” Armin shrugged on the jacket, although from the heat of the afternoon that blasted him as he opened the door, he doubt he’d need it.

Jean didn’t respond for a beat as he closed the door, then spoke in a low-voiced. “I’m going to visit my mom. Have to go on a detour first though.”

Armin knew Jean felt an illogical kind of guilt at the fact he still had surviving family, at the fact he still had a loving parent to be doted on and kissed and fed homemade omelets.

Armin elbowed him gently. “You don’t need to be hide your mum’s existence from us you know? I’m not going to go full rage titan at the fact one of my friend is lucky enough to still have a mum.”

Jean was silent for a moment, then forced a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m just worried one day you’ll follow me and get a taste of her cooking. You’ll never get back to research, you’ll be stuck begging in her kitchen.”

“Well, I guess I should thank you, so considerate of my work.” Armin joked, but his mood turned sour as he thought back to their ‘work’.

Before he could dwell on it further, Mikasa came into view. He could tell Jean had spotted her too from the way he straightened, even though she couldn’t see them. In fact, she was on the hill opposite, only recognisable because of jet of dark hair and blurry Scouts uniform.

“What’s she doing?” Jean beside him subconsciously rose on his tippy-toes, as if he would be able to make her out clearly.

“Probably looking for more bulbs. She was telling me the other day she wants loads of flowers around the memorial. Like an explosion of life.”

Beside him, Jean went to scoff but swallowed it.

“Well-“

“You should tell her how you feel.” Armin calmly spoke over Jean, who immediately retreated into silence.

Armin looked over at the hill she was on. He could make out blasts of reds and purples from evergreen bushes, and knew in a few months time the entire hill would be awash in colour. He felt an ache deep in his heart. His last Spring.

Beside him Jean sighed deeply but still didn’t speak.

“I remember the way you blushed when she’d walk past you in the mess hall, how much you always tried to out compete Eren, how after the Battle of Trost you looked for her, to make sure she was okay. I remember how –“

“Yeah I get it okay. I have it bad.” Jean snapped.

“I don’t consider love _bad._ ”

That shut him up. Armin let him dwell on that, but after a moment or two took pity and changed the topic.

“There was a letter from Falco today. He’s coming to visit.”

“Really? When?” Jean jumped to the change of conversation, but couldn’t as easily rid himself of his blush.

“Tomorrow.”

“What?! How? Wasn’t he in the depths of Marley last time we heard? The ferry alone will take at least a full day.”

Armin nodded. “I presume he’s planning on flying.”

Jean was quite for a moment. “Maybe he’s found something. Something important that can’t be sent through mail.”

They both knew that Falco avoided flying as much as possible. He was lucky because he was seen as a hero after being the one who killed Eren. No government could truly put him on house arrest like they did with Armin, he was too well-liked. However, they hadn’t forgotten either that he was the one who know held the Founding Titan. He knew that they were waiting for him to slip up, to present a danger, and then he’d be in shackles. Or more likely eaten. Even transforming into his winged titan posed risks, raised questions in the higher ups.

“No, I don’t think so. He didn’t mention it anyway in his letter. I think he just wants to talk to us. He misses us.”

Armin was surprised at Jean’s understanding nod. He had expected at a sarcastic comment at least.

It was then that Armin noticed the path they were taking – it wasn’t going to Trost, but parallel to where the city lay. Further into the prairies and forest they now called home.

“Where are we-?” The question died on his lip when Armin spotted the first roof, way over behind a patch of trees.

“I didn’t know you still came.” He added softly.

Jean grunted as they neared the village, their earthy footpath giving way to cracked cobbles.

It was eerie as Armin remembered it, if not more so. The entire village was a ghost story, each house a haunted victim.

Nature was slowly creeping in though. Armin noticed weeds now growing through cracked windows, birds nesting in the roofs. Trees were even spouting through the pathway, root’s cracking through the cobbles. Life was slowly coming back.

They stopped, and wordlessly looked at the white canvas. Green moss now grew over it, soiling the purity it once had.

Armin took a sharp intake of air as Jean stepped forward, getting to work uncovering it. Uncovering her.

Once he had unpegged one side, he quickly moved the other. Then with a grunt he threw the flap back.

Golden eyes stared back at Armin, a perpetual smile inviting him forward.

It was Connie’s mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'The Shining' voice* Hhhere's Connie!!!('s mother)


	4. Chapter Four - Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely reviews, and the kudos and bookmarks! *whispers a soft reminder* - "manga spoilers throughout".

_Jean_

Jean stood back, looking at her. Beside him, Armin took a few steps back. His breathes were rapid, and Jean looked at the badly hidden fear painted across his face. He had forgotten that Armin hadn’t seen a Pure Titan for nearly a decade; probably should’ve warned him.

“I come here as much as I can, as much as I can face.” He stepped forward, and ran a hand over a twiggy finger. Her skin was cold, the nail sharp enough tear skin. Luckily for him though, she couldn’t move anything, except her mouth and eyes.

Eyes which were now trained firmly on him.

“Connie would want me to. I keep thinking about how Ymir described being a titan like this – like being in a never-ending nightmare. I think about how when I have nightmares, I can’t control what happens; what I do. But I know what I’m doing, I know what’s happening. _I feel.”_

He dropped her finger, moving back to Armin. “Whose to say what they know and feel, that they don’t feel fear and pain and loneliness. Whose to know what they _feel._ ” He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “I just know what I can do. For Connie.”

Armin nodded slowly. “You know I tried to jump into her mouth once?”

Jean’s head whipped to Armin. _“What?!”_

Armin didn’t look at him, but continued to stare at the titan in front of him. “Connie wanted to feed Falco to her, to get her back. I didn’t want Falco to die, and I thought about the man whose place I took and wondered what he would do. And I knew he would sacrifice himself if he knew it was the right thing to do.”

Jean gave one last look at Armin before turning back to the titan. “And Connie saved you.”

“And Connie saved me.”

The two men were still for a moment, and then suddenly Jean threw himself down onto the ground. Armin jumped, his first thought was that he was injured, that something had –

And then he had heard the sobs.

Jean buried his head further into his elbow, the dust of the floor getting into his mouth, his eyes. His body shook, as the sobs wracked through him. Goddammit why did Armin had to be here?! Why couldn’t a man have a breakdown in peace.

His mind was full of Connie. Connie and Sasha. Of the teasing, the jokes, the midnight adventures.

When Armin put a hand on his shoulder, he sobbed even harder because it grounded him. He was alive, and they were both dead.

“It was always… always the three of us. Connie and me and Sasha. And it was the three of you. And that was how it always was and then it wasn’t and I lost my two-thirds and you lost your one-third and-“ He took a deep, shuddering breath. “-and I’m here now and they’re not and they should be! I was the worst, the only good bits of me were moulded by those two… And I’m only here because Eren is gone and it’s all.. it’s all _fucked._ ”

He took another few deep breathes, already calming down. He didn’t know if anything he said had made sense, but his head was sore and his heart ached, and it was nice to have someone listen.

He sat up slowly, dragging a sleeve across his eyes like a child would.

“Sorry Armin I –“

“Jean, I mean this in the best possible way, but you could never replace Eren.” Armin’s hand was still gripping his shoulder, his blue eyes burning into Jean’s.

“You’re not him, and you never could be. And it’s probably just as well you’re not because we could have another Rumbling on our hands.” A smile tugged at his lips.

“Eren was brilliant and brave and wonderful, but he was also arrogant, proud and rash. Don’t get me wrong, after knowing you for fifteen years, and sharing a room with you for seven of those, I can with certainty state you are a conceited bastard. You’re loud-mouthed, somehow both cocky and woefully insecure, and have a hot temper.”

“Right don’t mince your words Armin.” Jean muttered, only half joking.

“But you’re also incredibly thoughtful, funny and caring. You’re hardworking and, despite your words, selfless. You gave up whatever highflying job they offered you to come here-“ Armin gestured around him, -“the middle of nowhere, surrounded by empty homes and artifacts of horrors. You all but gave up the life you earned to help me, help _us,_ try and find a way to extend the thirteen years titan shifters get. Even though you didn’t have to, even though it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest.”

Jean looked down, a blush spreading to his face. He didn’t know Armin knew about the job offer.

Armin sighed and looked down with him. “I don’t want to admit it, but Eren would never had done that, even before he went... well whatever the hell he went. Even as a child. He liked helping people, but only if it was _exciting,_ only if it made his blood rush and he got one step closer to freedom, to life. Case in point, I can’t imagine him ever doing something like this.” Armin gestured to the titan in front of them.

Jean's eyes returned to Armin. He blinked. He had never really heard Armin talk bad about the great Eren Jeager before.

“My point is, Jean,” Armin looked back at him, “that you’re not Eren. And Eren wasn’t you. Me and Mikasa aren’t Connie and Sasha. The three of them are dead; the three of us are alive. We honour them in our hearts and in our thoughts and in our actions, but we never presume to try and live their lives. You’re not with Mikasa and me because we were ‘Minus One’ in our group. You’re our friend.”

Armin stood, dusting down his trousers, and Jean pushed himself up, following him.

“Oh, and one other thing. It doesn’t matter that who you are now is a direct result of who you loved, and who loved you. It doesn’t matter if all your ‘good parts’ are inspired by Connie, or Sasha, or Marco. Because they’re still a part of you. I’m a different person than who I was when I joined the Scouts. I learned to be brave, to be selfless, from all you guys.” He sighed, looking up and blinding himself on the sun.

“Sometimes I’m so mad at Eren, I want to find a way to resurrect him, just to shout and scream at him.” Jean stared at Armin, one of the rare occasions that he found it better not to speak.

“He didn’t allow himself to be changed by those around him. He didn’t learn from Mikasa’s boundless love and he didn’t learn from my circumspection. He learned only from his own anger, his own rashness. He learned that hate begets hate.”

Armin sighed, shaking his head heading towards the titan.

“Come on, we’d better cover her again.”

Jean was still for a moment, staring at Armin before hurrying off to help. He had never expected to hear something like that from Armin.

_Hate begets hate._

And despite it all, the smallest voice in the back of his head had to wonder.

_Does that mean love begets love?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww poor lovesick Jean (again lol).


	5. Chapter Five - Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time in 2020/2021 we had snow today! I loved it but it was so very cold, so a 7/10.  
> I hadn't realised how short this chapter is, so I might upload chapter 6 tonight to make up for it's short length :) Also another reminder in case you missed the others, manga spoilers throughout! And thank you also for such wonderful feedback and support on the chapters so far! It means the world to me :))

_Mikasa_

Mikasa examined her reflection, turning her head to the side. She had been keeping her hair short for so long she had forgotten what it was like to feel the soft weight against her shoulders. She wasn’t even sure how she used to style it. Surely she didn’t keep it down all the time, especially when fighting. Did she plait it? Do a bun or French ponytail?

She didn’t have any hair bands, but figured a rag strip would do. Holding the hair tightly with one hand, she wound the rag around it with the other, then tied it tightly. She shook her head, making sure a cascade of hair wouldn’t fall free. She allowed herself a celebratory smile.

She looked younger when she smiled, like a different person. A different _her._ The smile dropped immediately, and she turned away from the mirror to the task at hand.

Cleaning.

She wasn’t sure whose influence it was – her mother or Carla or Levi, but whenever she heard they were going to have a visitor, she would immediately devote her free time to cleaning. At first the two boys would help her, but Armin would normally get distracted by reading some notes and Jean would sigh every ten minutes until she would snap at him to just go and prepare dinner or something. Which would in turn upset Jean, who claimed he was helping and had only been breathing, and then Armin would have to –

No, it was far easier for her to wait until they were both out, and then do it herself in a cleaning blitz.

She always worked bottom up, which meant the floor was her first task. Surveying the mountains of slopping books and piles of paper, she took a deep breath before going to work.

It had been a good while since the last proper cleaning, longer than usual, and she had more to do.

For the first few years, a general or higher up would visit them every month or so. They would bring news for Armin, degrees for him to sign, updates from councils he wasn’t allowed to attend, gifts from dignities he wasn’t allowed to meet.

Mikasa knew the real reason they came though. It was to ensure he was still here, still isolated in the middle of nowhere, locked away from all the major decisions. Sure, the threat he posed as the Colossal Titan was one thing, but look at Falco. He was surely equally as dangerous, equally as capable of destruction as Armin, but was allowed to wander free.

_Or fly free._

A smile tugged at her lips as she collated a mass of papers Armin had left by his chair last night, but it quickly disappeared when she thought about Armin.

No, it was bullshit. After Levi chose to save him over Erwin Smith, after Hange promoted him to Commander before her death. After all of it. And they shoved him somewhere he couldn’t make trouble, where his voice couldn’t be heard.

Mikasa stopped, looking down at the paper crumpled in her fist. She sighed, trying to smooth it out.

At least Jean felt the same way. She knew he didn’t mention it for the same reason she didn’t, because they didn’t want to upset Armin, but she saw the way his eyes burnt when it was brought up, the way he had to bit his tongue.

_Eren wouldn’t bit his tongue._

Mikasa flinched, as if the words had been whispered aloud. When she wasn’t by his grave, she tried not to think about Eren, tried to banish him from her thoughts. He didn’t deserve her thoughts, not while she was in this hut. When inside this hut, she devoted herself to helping Armin. To not losing him too.

But he wouldn’t have. He would shout about it, go straight to the city of Mitras. Break things until people listened to him.

A laugh bubbled in Mikasa, but it quickly turned into a sob.

This was why she couldn’t think Eren. Not inside, not by herself. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself.

With a growl, she grabbed the brush, and began to furiously sweep the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'(  
> don't worry, next chapter promises some light relief after all this angst


	6. Chapter Six - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another soft moment with the boys, a sprinkle of exposition and some light relief after all the breakdowns :)

_Armin_

Armin didn’t know whether to speak first, or if Jean was still lost in his thoughts.

They were nearing Trost, and Armin was secretly relieved he’d be heading back. Truthfully, he was embarrassed by his outburst – where had all that anger come from? He thought he had moved on from Eren. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he had _forgiven_ him, but had _accepted_ his actions now.

Apparently not.

He was still conducting an internal self-analysis when Jean cleared his throat. Armin had lived with Jean long enough that he was used to his little quirks and habits. When Jean cleared his throat, it normally meant he was preparing himself to say something he'd been putting off saying.

“Armin I…” He coughed again, this time speaking more confidently, like his usual self. “Armin I never thanked you for saving her. Connie’s mom.”

Armin was silent, but nodded his head to show he heard.

“I know I got on your ass about it, and was probably a headache.”

"Not just probably, you _were.”_ Armin spoke with a smile.

“Yeah well, if you just did it when I asked nicely I…” He took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t matter. I know everyone wanted to get rid of her, even the Queen, and I know you were the only one who argued to keep her there, the last pure titan left. And I know it damaged your standing with the government, and if you had gone along with it they might not have locked you out of major decisions, left you in the dark. And I know-“

“ _Might._ They _might_ have kept me informed. But also might not have.” Armin took a deep breath, surprised at how touched he was by the conversation. “Yes, I used all the leverage I had left to make sure they left her alone, and yes it was probably because she was- _is_ Connie’s mother. But, like you said, she’s also the last pure titan left. When I was writing the letters, I imagined what Commander Erwin or Hange would do.” He let out a laugh, soft and pure.

“Imagine how excited Hange would’ve been to have a stationary titan right outside their door?! They would’ve been having picnics and slumber parties with her. And Commander Erwin,” He sobered up, “Commander Erwin would know what she stood for. A lesson for the future on what the past suffered.”

This time, it was Jean who nodded slowly. “Well, no matter what your reasons were Armin. I appreciate it. And I never thanked you. So,” Jean cleared his throat, “thank you.”

Armin smiled at his friend. “You’re welcome Jean.”

\---

When he got back, Mikasa was halfway through her cleaning madness. The windows were wide open, curtains floating on a gentle draft. The door was open too, and leaned against it was the rug they had found a few years ago. Scattered outside were various pieces of furniture, looking as if they fell from the sky.

“Mikasa.” Armin cautiously peaked around the door, his shoes already in his hands.

She appeared, a wild feral look in her eyes and holding the broom as if it was a sword.

“If I see _one_ muddy footprint –“

Armin held up his shoes, and she narrowed her eyes but let him past.

“Here.” A pile of books and papers were thrown into his arms. “Go upstairs and sort these. I need to finish down here before Jean comes back and messes it all up again.”

“Mikasa… you know Falco won’t mind if –“

She pivoted to face him, her eyes wide. “Falco may not. But I for one do.”

Armin knew there was nothing else he could do other than scurry up to his room. He wished he could put out a warning flag for Jean.

 _She’s going to eat him._ Was all Armin could think as he began to go through the paper.

As the hours ticked back, Armin could hear Mikasa carrying the furniture back in, dragging them against the floor until she was happy with their placement. Armin was lying on his bed, throwing a ball into the air and trying to catch it one handed.

When Mikasa got like this, there was nothing he could do or say to calm the storm. The only thing he and Jean could do was hide upstairs until she called down to them, peace once more restored.

He had planned to shout from the window when he heard Jean approach, but he must’ve drifted off, because he woke up to a high scream of terror.

_"Stop Mikasa no wait-“_

Armin bolted up right, all but throwing himself out of the room and down the stairs. As he expected, Jean was cowering, his arms in a posture of defeat as Mikasa tried to whack him repeatedly with the soft-end of the broom.

_What have you done?!?!_

Armin looked down the hall, and sure enough big, muddy footprints decorated the otherwise spotless floor.

“Mikasa listen I – Armin! Help me!” Jean yelped when she caught his ear, and made desperate eye contact with his friend.

Armin was down in a second, grabbing Mikasa before she could full on give the poor guy a concussion.

“Do you know how long I’ve been cleaning?!? And you just traipse-“ She aimed a kick at Jean, who just managed to jump out the way.

“Hey hey I’ll clean it!” Jean backed slowly away from Mikasa.

“That’s not the point!! And anyway you’ll clean it wrong!”

Jean paused, his old self coming through for a moment with a scorn. “How could I _clean_ the floor wrong? That’s –“ He jumped back when Mikasa lunged at him again, all but foaming. “Okay okay you’re right I’ll clean horrendously and only dirty it more okay I’m sorry.” He raised his hands in surrender, and it was then that both Mikasa and Armin saw he had a bag hanging from his wrist.

“What do you have there?” Armin relaxed his grip on Mikasa.

Jean held up the bag somewhat bashfully. “My mum made dinner for you all.”

Mikasa stopped struggling, and in an instance both she and Armin realised how hungry they were.

“Truce?” Jean timidly held out the bag towards Mikasa, looking like he was prepared to sprint if she launched herself as him.

She considered the offer, then accepted the bag somewhat sullenly. “I’ll have to see how good the meal if before I fully agree to this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the feedback so for on the story! I really appreciate every comment, kudo and bookmark :) Next up - Falco arrives!


	7. Chapter Seven - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that a touch of Jeankasa fluff I sense? ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for 56 kudos, and 6 bookmarks! Unreal ♥ And also thank you for very every comment, they really motivate me to keep writing, and I love hearing all your thoughts on the chapters :)

_Mikasa_

Mikasa woke up just as the sun’s first rays peaked over the horizon. She didn’t have curtains in her room, preferring to fall asleep looking at the stars and waking with the sun.

She remained under her blanket for a while, watching the watery warm of the sun grow, intensify, until she had to squint.

Finally she sat up, and dressed quickly. Her heart thudded with excitement. Today Falco was coming.

They didn’t know what time he was arriving at, but considering he was flying from Marley he probably wouldn’t be arriving until the afternoon. Either way, there was work to do before.

She had an apple and some water for breakfast, like she always did. Although dinner was more a communal event, breakfast was completely solo, every-man-for-himself kind of thing. Armin usually had porridge, and on the rare occasion Jean wasn’t too wrecked too move he’d make himself a fry-up with the eggs and meat Mikasa had bought at the market. But most mornings he was too tired, and instead conceded for a bowl of porridge as well. Although she never mentioned it, the smell of the fat frying and the hiss of the eggs always turned her stomach, so she was more than happy that they were mostly a porridge-only home.

As she went to bite into her apple, her eyes fell on the three sets of cutlery and plates from last night.

For once in his life Jean hadn’t been over or under exaggerating. His mother’s cooking was spectacular. She had prepared three meals of meat and vegetable omelets with rice and sauce, and even thinking about it made Mikasa feel her mouth water.

That and a stab of guilt.

With a sigh she began washing up the plates. They had only gotten running water last year, and the tap in the kitchen was especially dodgy, but at least it worked.

She shouldn’t have attacked Jean with a broom. A simple lesson, and yet one she had to learn. Don’t attack friends with brooms. He wasn’t to know she had just spent the last five hours washing and scrubbing and dusting only for him to go strolling in, _whistling_ as he-

She took a deep breath, and focused on the scrubbing the plate in her hand.

While her room and the bathroom was above the living room, the boys’ room was above the kitchen, so most mornings if she was still there she could hear them getting up. If she was still sometimes she could even make out a few words.

Which were nearly always _Jean gettup_ and _Arghhh,_ repeated minute depending on how late they’d gone to bed the night before.

When they both emerged downstairs, Armin looking tired but alert and Jean looking like death with a hangover, Mikasa had finished her apple, and instead was by their small stove, cracking two eggs. She could never get the hang of such a small cooking pan, and even if they didn’t make her feel slightly nauseated, cooking a fry up always did her head in. She did the bacon and sausages first, but then when the eggs were cooking the meat was just waiting on a plate, growing colder and congealed by the second. And then they was the matter of boiling some water of tea. And don’t even get her started on trying to toast bread on the pan.

She growled as she flipped an egg. She really hated fry ups.

Politely, they both took a seat and waited for her to finish with the stove so they could start boiling water for the porridge.

Mikasa swore as part of the egg hissed, and spits of boiling oil landed on her hand.

Jean made some attempt to speak, coughed and tried again.

“I didn’t know you-“ He paused to yawn, “-didn’t know you liked fry ups Mikasa.”

“I don’t.” She all but snarled as she tipped the eggs onto the plate. She picked up the plate, and placed it in front of Jean. Only she miscalculated how far the table was and it slammed against the wood. She then cursed, because her finger had gotten caught between the table and plate.

So much for this being an harmonious attempt at an apology.

Jean was staring down at the plate as if she had just handed him a sack of gold – in complete awe and disbelief.

“This is for… me?”

She was in a pretty pissed mood admittedly, and snapped, “You better not let it get cold.”

Jean suddenly eyed her. “You didn’t-“

“Oh for Christ sake no I didn’t poison it.” She pushed it forward towards him. “It’s for you.” She added a little gentler.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and dived into the meal.

Armin joked as he got his porridge ready why hadn’t he gotten any, and Mikasa had rolled her eyes.

“Armin you haf to be hith multiple times wish a broom first.” Jean had managed to make out through a mouthful of eggs. “Itchs worsh it though.”

Both Mikasa and Armin stared at Jean in disgust as he swallowed.

“Jean, please ask your mother next time you see her to remind you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full, as she clearly forgot to let you know the first time round.” Armin said coolly as Jean shoveled bacon and sausages into his mouth.

He paused, a look of question on his face. “Wha did you shay?”

Mikasa couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It wasn’t a full laugh, technical more of a giggle than a laugh. The two men stopped and stared at her, and both individually cursed themselves when she saw them looking and shut her mouth, the frown returning.

For a moment, all three of them just swapped glances, each one wondering were the others hearing what they were.

“Is that-“

"From above-“

“ _Wings?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Jean get to finish his fry...? Lol, also I can't decide what to do with Gabi :// She was in the story originally, then I wrote her out but now I'm thinking of including her again? I dunno though :/ Anyone have any strong views on Gabi being in/excluded from this story?


	8. Chapter Eight - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may be 44 minutes past midnight and I'm half asleep in bed, but I'm still counting this as a daily upload! Thanks for the responses on the Gabi question, ye changed my mind. Gabi will officially be written back in! Also I just want to say how much I appreciate all the support on this story. Every kudo, comment and bookmark really sets off all sorts of chemical fireworks in my head, and motivates me to write another chapter. I cannot believe there were over one hundred more hits between this chapter and when I uploaded the last chapter! It really is so amazing, and I'm so tired I can't really think of the words to describe how grateful I am for it all, but I guess all I can really say is thank you :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reached the 50k words milestone today on this story, and I think this chapter and chapter 16 are still my all time favourites to write. I really love this chapter, it was kinda the moment I decided 'yes, I will stick with this story'. I hope ye all enjoy it x

_Jean_

By the time all three of them had rushed outside (Jean a moment later than the other two as he hurriedly crammed some more egg into his mouth), Falco had already landed.

Jean always forgot how large his titan really was, and halted with the other two as they stared up at the build. It towered over them, it’s eyes dark and wide, and it’s beak wickedly sharp. Even though Jean _knew_ it was Falco, _knew_ the titan wouldn’t hurt him, he still took a step back, half wishing he had his swords on his hip right now.

On top, smoke appeared from the titan, and the great beast stilled. Jean felt himself calm.

Then a figure rose from the titan’s neck, blocking the early sun as he threw himself back.

“Falco!” Armin was the first one of them to react, and rushed forward, climbing on to the bird’s wings to reach the boy.

Jean followed suit, his hands digging into the soft feathers as he pulled himself up. He looked down, and then froze, his eyes widening.

Armin had his arms around Falco, trying to lift him free. He wasn’t moving.

“Is he okay?” Armin looked up at Jean, the hint of his childhood panic returning.

Jean swept forward, his fingers resting against Falco’s neck, his childhood assertiveness coming through. He leaned back, studying Falco.

“Don’t worry Armin he’s fine.” He rested a hand against the boy’s hair, brushing some locks that were stuck to the titan flesh on his face. “Just unconscious. Must’ve flown non-stop since yesterday to get here by morning.”

Although _boy_ wasn’t the correct term for him, Jean still couldn’t accept Falco was all grown up. That the person who his hand rested on was a man, not just an innocent child.

“We’ll have to cut him free.” Jean followed Armin’s gaze to Falco’s lower torso, which was still firmly stuck in the titan’s neck, and made a face. It gave him the creeps, all this stuff. The titan flesh, the blood he could see oozing out from the gap where Falco came from. If he looked close enough he could make out the flesh _pulsating-_

“Jean-“

“Right sorry.” Truthfully, Jean was mentally somewhere between his bed and a fry-up, neither place terribly useful for the current situation.

He leaned over the wing. “Mikasa, grab some swords, we need-“

The words died on his lips when he saw her. She was shaking, her eyes focused not on them but on the titan itself. On it’s face.

He tried again, calling for her, but she didn’t react.

“Is Mikasa okay?” Armin looked up, Falco cradled against his chest, and Jean nodded.

“Stay with him, I’ll be back in two minutes.”

He hopped back over the Titan’s side, but paused to look back at Armin. “Don’t let go of him Armin, he might just sink back into the titan.” Without waiting for a response he half-jumped half-slid down the wing to solid ground.

Mikasa didn’t respond when he called her name again. She was panting, shaking and shivering in the crisp air. Her face had gone paper white, her eyes wide and focused on the Falco’s titan.

Jean didn’t know what was happening. For a moment he felt as if he was just watching this all unfold, unable to help. He had never seen Mikasa have an episode like this.

He tried calling out her name again, but just as before she didn’t move, only continued to tremble.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he go and get Armin? Yes, _of course_ he should go and get Armin, Armin’s head wasn’t still dreaming about the slice of bacon waiting in the kitchen for him.

Jean turned, but then Mikasa gasped. It was the sound of horror, of pain and fear and heart-ache all rolled into one. He couldn't leave her, even for an instance, and he turned back to her. He watched her face crumble as if she was living through a nightmare, witnessing it unfold. She gasped again, and it was such a wretched sound. A sound of something living that’s too afraid to scream.

Jean reached towards and gently wrapped his fingers around her arm.

The effect was instant. Mikasa launched herself at him, the full power of an Ackermann unbridled.

The first punch was to his stomach, the second to his chest. He managed to block the third one, but the fourth found its way to his ribs, and he gasped in pain.

_She was so quick._

Vaguely, he was aware of Armin shouting, and then a streak of an arm, aimed for his head. He blocked it again, but she used the momentum against him and nailed another punch in the ribs.

Not even knowing what he was doing, Jean launched himself at her. That at least caught her by surprise, and before she could react they both hit the ground with a hard thud. He groaned in pain, but kept his arms wrapped around hers, trapping them in an embrace.

She tried to kick him, but he managed to twist his leg over hers, trapping them in a similar ways her arms were.

She writhed against him, grunting as she tried to unbalance him.

“Mikasa. Stop it. It’s me. You’re safe.” He hissed the words in her ear, his head against her shoulder. He had no idea what was happening, what was wrong with her.

“Mikasa. Please. Stop it!” He begged, tears forming behind his eyes. Behind them, Armin shouted something, but it was lost over the sounds of the struggle.

“Mikasa it’s Jean-“ He hadn’t finished his name before her head swung back, connecting with his. Pain exploded on his forehead. He hissed, and something snapped. For the first time in his life, he was _pissed_ at Mikasa.

He tightened his arms and legs, pressing her half against him and half into the ground. She snarled and tried to headbutt him again, but he dodged it.

“ _Mikasa, snap out of this right this instance!”_ Pain burst in his side as she joggled him, and he could feel blood running down from his forehead, but he kept his grip on her.

“ _MIKASA! THIS ISN’T_ YOU!” He shouted in her ear, a mixture of rage and pain battling for dominance in his voice. He shook her. _“IT’S JEAN! YOU’RE SAFE! STOP ITTT!”_

He could feel her begin to calm, like water spreading across a fire. The jerking movements slowing down until they stopped completely.

He didn’t dare let go of her, and kept his grip tight.

The only sound for some moments were their pants, and Jean felt the adrenaline slowly ease out of his system. The ground was cold. The grass against his head wet from frozen dew. There were birds above them, not quite singing, but chirping inquisitively. Armin called out, his voice quiet with dread.

Jean’s breathing calmed, replaced instead by pain. He groaned.

Against him, he could feel Mikasa slowly come back, her breathing relaxing as her limbs experimentally twitched.

The blood was getting into his eyes now, and he had to squint against it. He could feel her gently twisting in his arms, and he hoped to all things food related it was her. _Their_ Mikasa. Because if it was the Ackermann-kill-all-enemies Mikasa, he doubted he’d be able to fight her again.

“Jean?” Her voice was soft, confused, and with a groan he released her. He rolled onto his back, working on shallow breathing. Or deep breathing. Or whatever would lessen the mini explosion of pain he felt every time he took a breath in.

“Jean!” And her hands were on him, wiping away the blood and ripping some material and then holding it against his head, and normally he’d be ecstatic, on cloud nine, because _her hands were on him_ but all he could do was groan again, his ribs like a vice around his lungs.

She managed to mop up most of the blood and he could open his eyes again.

She was above him, looking scared and hurt and confused but mostly like an angel.

 _Or devil_ , he decided as he winced.

“MIKASA! JEANN!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!” From behind them came Armin's frantic voice.

“I don’t-don’t k-k-know.” Mikasa called back, and dully Jean realised it was the first time he’d ever heard her stutter like that.

“Jean… what happened.. I don’t…”

He looked up at her, somehow managing the smallest smirk. “You really-“ He paused, hissing as the pain in his ribs erupted again. “You really went full psycho on me there.”

Mikasa fell back, landing against the ground once more. Jean pushed his fingers into the cold blades of grass, and prepared to sit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I just realised it's technically Valentines Day, so here's some relationship angst in honour ;)


	9. Chapter Nine - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, bookmarks, kudos and hits xxx  
> Happy Valentine's Day❤

_Armin_

Armin could hear Jean’s groans and Mikasa’s sobs but had no idea what was happening. His heart thudded in his chest as he gripped Falco. He didn’t even have a weapon to protect them if –

Suddenly, a howl broke through the air, and Mikasa’s sobs increased.

“ARMINNN!” She cried out, and Armin looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms. He made the decision, and slowly laid Falco back down. Even as he stood, red tendrils of tissue began to embrace Falco, dragging him back into the flesh.

Armin jumped down from the titan and ran over. He then stopped dead in his tracks. Mikasa was cradling an unconscious Jean. A Jean who was in a considerably worse state than when he had left Armin with Falco five minutes previous.

There was blood everywhere, smudged on Mikasa’s face, staining Jean’s clothes. His face was covered in it, and Mikasa made another attempt to mop it up with her already drenched cloth. She looked up, desperation shining from her face. “He- he tried to sit up and just- just collapsed and-“

Armin felt frozen. “Mikasa… What happened?”

“We have to help him!” She ignored his question, instead gesturing to their friend. “It’s … it’s his forehead-“

“No it’s his nose too.” Armin muttered as knelt beside his friend. He decided she was right; actions first, then questions.

Up close he could see the cut on is forehead, but there was also a steady stream of blood coming from his nose. He doubted it was broken – most likely the impact from the forehead bang forced some vessels to –

“Armin! We need to move him!”

“Right, okay.” Armin learned forward but Mikasa stopped him.

“It’s his ribs.” She gulped. “I think he’s broken a few.”

Armin nodded, refusing to allow himself to wonder how Jean got in the state. One thing at a time.

“Mikasa go – no wait, neither of us is strong enough to carry him fully, we’ll have to each take an arm and shoulder him like that.” Armin maneuvered around Mikasa, who was still holding him in a sitting position. Somewhat awkwardly they managed to each get an arm around their shoulders.

“Ready?” Armin grunted, surprised at how heavy Jean was.

“One, two, three.” Together they stood, bringing Jean with them. Even unconscious, he let out a groan, which only proved to Armin how badly he was injured.

There was not point even trying to heave him upstairs, and they carefully laid him down on their sofa.

Armin placed a hand on his forehead, and before he’d even asked Mikasa was tearing into her top, handing him some former-uniform turned rag.

Armin tried to clean up Jean’s face as much as he could, and ordered Mikasa to get some warm water and proper towels.

_How did this happen Jean?_

Even unconscious, his face was twisted, his breathing shallow. Armin gently held the now soiled cloth against his nose, trying to stem the bleeding.

Of course he knew how this had happened. Mikasa had done this. There was no other explanation.

Armin squeezed shut his eyes, recalling Jean’s frantic shouts, his pleas.

_This isn’t you Mikasa!_

How could she have done this? How could –

Armin jumped when he heard her hurried footsteps. “Here.” She handed him what he had asked for.

As Armin took it he looked at her, searching her face for some sign of violence, some sign of madness.

But all he saw was Mikasa. Mikasa with blood on her face and her normally silky hair in wild wisps and flyaway knots. Her eyes were wide, blinking as she looked down at them.

“Will he be okay Armin?”

Armin turned back to Jean. He slowly wrung the cloth and began to dab it on his forehead. What should he do? He had three people right now in need of his undivided attention. Three. Falco trapped in his titan, Jean unconscious and Mikasa - Well, whatever the hell was up with Mikasa.

He thought about Commander Erwin, what he would do, and instantly Armin knew the answer. He would stay with his hurt comrade. Falco was safe, tucked away in his titan. Although the fact that a titan bird was sitting outside their hut wasn’t the most desirable thing, so few people came this far South he reckon it would go unnoticed. And Mikasa. Armin stole a quick glance at her. She was staring at Jean with wide, unblinking eyes that didn't seem completely focused on him.

She was in shock.

And whatever had happened outside. It must have been triggered by _something_. It was the first time that something like that had happened, meaning it was something new. Everything in the hut she’d seen thousands of times before, so as long as she stayed inside, she should be fine.

_Unless, once she’s activated whatever part of her was locked away, she can’t un-activate herself._

Armin shook his head. That was just a chance he’d have to take.

As he debated, he cleaned Jean. Mikasa sat beside him in devastated silence. The water began to be tainted crimson, and she reached for it.

“I’ll refill it.”

When she came back, she was also carrying two swords.

“I’ll go get Falco when you stay with –“

“No Mikasa!” Armin cried out, panic sudden seizing him. She froze, staring at him.

“Mikasa. Come over here, and give me those swords.” Armin spoke slowly, as if trying to calm a wild animal.

“But I can –“

“Mikasa!” Armin shouted then. Armin never shouted at her.

When he knew she was listening, he spoke again in the same measured tone. “Falco is in his titan. He’s safe, and should regain consciousness on his own soon. Hand me the swords, and we’ll stay with Jean.”

He watched her, and he could see her mind puzzling over his words as she walked towards him. She gently rested the swords by his side, and them sat on the chair opposite, her head in her hands.

Armin sighed, his focus back on Jean.

"We’ll have to bind his chest if he really has cracked ribs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh row.  
> I might upload the next chapter in the next hour (as long as I don't fall asleep first lol) because Falco finally is featured! Every chapter with Falco in has a special place in my heart. I just love sweet innocent Falco so darn much :')


	10. Chapter Ten - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much on the response on the last chapter! Finally in double digits of chapter numbers haha 🥳 💖And here's Falco!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know which is the correct spelling of Jean's last name; Kirschtein or Kirstein? And the same with Armin's last name too actually - Arlelt or Arlert? Is it just anime vs manga spelling or? I went with Kirschtein for Jean just because it seems more traditionally German and went for Arlert for Armin just because it seems a lot less of a tongue-twister to say than Arlelt, but I can change them easily if someone knows which one is the correct (or more correct) version of their names? Thanks x

_Jean_

_Titans. Everywhere. Spine. Bones. Footprint. Screams. Face. Mouth. Teeth. Eren._

Jean gasped awake, and then immediately cursed with the pain. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes on the ceiling and rid himself of the images.

“You’re awake!” A familiar voice from his side called to him, and he turned to see Falco beside him; his face split into a familiar smile.

“F-“ His voice was gone, and Jean cleared his throat and winced. “Falco? What-?”

He tried to remember everything that had happened, and raised a hand to his head.

"No no no no that took ages to put on probably.” Falco leaned over and grabbed Jean’s hand.

Jean winced. “What happened?” And as if his mind had been waiting for him to ask the question, it all came back. The titan, Falco, cutting him out, Mikasa.

Mikasa.

He made a face.

Falco leaned back on his chair. “I’m not too sure to be honest. Last thing I remembered was just landing at sunrise, the last thing I saw was you guys running out. And then I blacked out. And when I woke up, I was still in the titan, and it was dark and nobody was around. So I got out and went to your door and knocked but there was no answer, but I went in anyway. And I decided I’d just sleep on the coach because I didn't really know what else to do but it was covered in blood so I made do in the chair because I was absolutely wrecked. And then Mr Arlert woke me up, looking very solemn, and asked me to mind you when he and Mikasa went out.”

Jean nodded. Christ he had forgotten how much the kid could talk.

“So then I’ve just been here with you. And every so often you’d whimper in your sleep, and at one stage you managed to undo the bandage around your head, but I managed to do it back up again and they’ve been gone for a good few hours now, and I’d expect it’ll be sunset soon.” He said, all in one breath, and looked at Jean expectantly.

“Well first thing first Falco, I don’t _whimper._ You must’ve heard a growl of gallantry. And secondly, it’s good to have you home.” Jean reached over, ignoring the pang of pain from his side, and patted Falco’s knee.

Falco smiled, nodded back. “It’s good to be back.”

“What was so urgent –“

Falco stood, moving towards their window. “I said I’d wait until I had all three of you together.”

With his face illuminated by dredges of sunlight, Jean began to noticed changes he’d somehow missed.

Falco’s hair was long, and looked messy and unkempt. Stubble lined his chin and cheeks, and his face seemed thinner, more weathered. The usual smile which decorated his features was gone as he looked out of the window, and Jean realised how old he looked without it.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way for a haircut?!”

Falco started at his voice, as if being roughly thrown out of his thoughts. His hand picked at his hair like he hadn’t noticed it before.

“I guess it is getting a bit long.”

“Come here.” Jean demanded, and when he was near enough he leaned upwards and felt the length, tutting as he did so.

“And don’t even get me started on whatever’s going on here.” Jean jokingly gestured to his chin. “Did you forget the method me and Armin taught you?! Don’t tell me you don’t shave because you still cut yourself on the blade.”

Whatever somber thought had darkened Falco’s mind had been banished, and he laughed, his smile revived. “Hey! That's not fair, I was only fourteen back then! And anyway that’s rich coming from you!”

“From me?”

“Yes! You have hair longer than mine _and_ weird stubble!”

Jean smirked. “Oh, I see, you’re trying to imitate the greatest person there is. I hate to be the one to have to tell you this Falco,-“

“No no that’s not what I meant!”

“- but beauty does not come from facial hair and hairstyles. Beauty comes from within.”

Falco was laughing, and it was like he hadn’t left.

Jean smiled, watching him. For the past seven or so years Falco was pretty much a nomad. The idea was that he was researching for them, and he was. But he was also exploring the world. He’d send letters and books back to them, and they would never be completely sure where’d to expect the postmark to be from. Around five years ago, some foreign territory threatened war, and all travel was halted. They had all just assumed he’d go back to his parents and Gabi, and were equally as surprised as each other when they had received a letter from him, asking if he could stay with them a few weeks.

In a move that Jean liked to consider he pioneered, a few weeks turned into a month which turned into the whole summer.

“How long do you plan on staying? Time for a quick trip around the woods with the gear?”

Around half way through his first month with them, Falco had finally gathered enough courage to ask could one of them teach him how to use the ODM gear. Armin had never been particularly good at it anyway, and Mikasa had point blank refused, so it had fallen to Jean.

 _Fallen_ made it sound like he’d thought it a chore. He had loved every second of it, to be flying through the trees, wind in his hair again. They went out most weeks, and every time Falco had visited since they made sure to fit in a quick trip.

Falco raised an eyebrow. “I mean for me, there’s always time for some ODM. I just don’t think you’d be able to with-“

“Nonsense.” Jean interrupted him. “I’ve been waiting to go out again, I’m not letting some ribs get in the way.”

“You have all the gear, why don’t you just go by yourself.”

Jean sighed. “It’s no fun by yourself.” _There’s too many memories._ He stopped himself from adding that, but he could tell by Falco’s pity gaze he knew what he’d been thinking.

“Anyway, enough chitchat, help me up Falco.”

Falco immediately raised his two hands, palm forward. “Nu-uh. Mr Arlert told me to watch you while you recovered. Helping you get up is not watching you recover.”

Jean grumbled. “Well it’s a good thing _Mr_ Arlert isn’t _Dr_ Arlert. They’re my ribs, and they’re telling me that getting up will be good for them.”

“Respectfully Mr Kirschtein, I don’t think ribs can speak.”

Jean shot Falco a warning glare, and the boy sighed, backing down.

“Alright. Just promise me if Mr Arlert gives out, you’ll take the blame.”

Jean snorted. Considering Falco was turning twenty soon, he still hadn’t shed the childhood innocent he carried around with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this chapter at midnight on Valentine's Day listening to "Hey there Delilah", so I am feeling a little bit fluffy :') It did occur to me that the last chapter didn't exactly scream valentine's Day, and I wished I had planned out my uploading schedule so a fluffy Jeankasa chapter could've been uploaded today. But I think this chapter is really sweet, and even though it's for sure isn't romantic love, there's definitely love in there somewhere ;') Happy Valentine's Day!


	11. Chapter Eleven - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much on the response on the last few chapters! Here's the next installment :D

_Armin_

Armin was surprised to see Falco and Jean up when they returned, and a flicker of annoyance ran through him. He wanted to make sure Mikasa wouldn’t go full attack mode on Jean again the next time they met, wanted to introduce them back slowly.

Not to the sounds of Jean barking out orders to Falco, who was desperately trying to work out how to use the stove.

“No, Falco the other way, no you just turned it off completely! Listen to me!”

“I am! You’re not giving –“

Falco jumped guiltily away from the stove when he saw Armin and Mikasa.

“Falco I told you to –“

“I tried Mr Arlert I really did.” Falco looked at Jean with wide eyes, and Jean sighed, turning slowly in his chair to face Armin.

“Please put any blame you may hold for Falco on me, I forced him to-“

Jean’s voice died when he saw Mikasa standing beside him. Armin looked at her too, and for her part, her gaze was steadily directed at her shoes.

“I’m sorry I –“

“It’s okay Falco,” Armin firmly pushed Mikasa in a chair as far away from Jean as possible on the table. And consider it wasn’t a big table, not very fair.

“You guys want some eggs?” Jean asked them, and then without waiting for an answer called to Falco to fry up three more.

Armin could see the way Falco eyed gulped, eyeing the stove with something akin to horror, but dutifully nodded. He smiled at the boy.

“I was thinking –“

“Falco where are the swords?” Armin’s voice cut through Jean’s.

Falco turned, biting his lip. “I left them upstairs when I brought Mr Kirschstein down.”

Armin tried not to show his annoyance. Should he leave Mikasa alone with Jean and rush up to get them, or –

“Armin what do we need them for anyway? It’s fine.”

“He needs them for me.” Mikasa’s voice was like steel, and all eyes turned to her. She continued to ignore them all, and just stared at the table. “In case I attack you or Falco again.”

The only sound for a moment was the eggs hissing, and Falco’s soft curse as hot oil spat on him.

“That’s-“ Jean looked at her in disbelief, and then looked at Armin, as if asking Armin to disagree. Armin looked away.

“That’s ridiculous, you’d never-“

“And yesterday we’d have all said that it would be preposterous imaging me attacking you.” Her eyes flickered up, staring at Jean before looking down again.

Like Armin had said before, he knew all Jean’s little cues and habits. And he knew what it meant when he narrowed his eyes, and he went to talk before Jean could speak.

“So I was thinking –“

“Yeah by the way, what was all that about? What have you and Armin been talking about the whole time I was asleep. Figured out a reason you went full psycho back there?”

The only sign Mikasa had even heard him was the faint blush which coloured her cheeks. Other than that she didn’t move, her gaze still focused on her hands.

“Hey Mikasa! I was wondering why –“

Armin watched Mikasa, looking for any telltales of emotion. Her eyes closed momentarily, but then she opened them and continued looking down at her fingers.

He knew what she was doing. She was locking herself down, burying herself beneath layers of psyche. No matter how much Jean raged or shouted at her, he wouldn’t get an answer. She was retreating within herself, her face growing blanker by the second.

“Jean.” Armin’s voice was sharp, and stopped Jean mid shout. “Let’s eat first. Then we can talk. Okay?”

He could tell from the way Jean bit his lip it was most certainly _not_ okay, but he nodded nevertheless.

Armin got up to help Falco, who to his credit had managed to somehow wrangle out four portions of scrambled eggs and some toast between all the shouting.

Not that Armin could blame Jean. He deserved to know why Mikasa had tried to kill him; they all did.

With only a muttered thanks from Jean, they wordlessly dived into the meal. Every so often Armin glanced at Jean, who was stabbing chunks of egg as if they personally had insulted him, and Mikasa, who was silently nibbling at some toast.

Mikasa and him hadn’t really talked about anything on their walk. In fact, _walk_ wasn’t really the right word. They had gone to the memorial, and watered the bulbs she’d planted earlier. He had just wanted to get her out of the house, away from Jean and Falco. He had no idea what had triggered her, if it had been Falco, or even Jean himself, and reckoned the best course of action was keeping her away from both of them.

The stones Armin had gathered all those years ago had moss growing on them, and just for something to do he began picking off the soft, green lichen. Mikasa had joined him, and for a few hours they had worked in silence, saved for one conversation. 

_“I didn’t mean to.”_

_“I know.”_

He thought about the sounds of the struggle, how helpless he’d felt on the titan’s back. If only Falco hadn’t blacked out, hadn’t pushed so hard to get home quickly. If he-

Armin’s head shot upwards towards Falco.

“Falco!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, and the boy jumped. “Sorry, Falco. I just realised you haven’t told us why you came back so suddenly?”

“Oh.” A faint glow appeared on Falco’s cheeks. “With everything that happened, I actually forget about it. It’s umm.” He looked up, feeling three pairs of eyes hanging off his every word.

“It’s the Armored Titan. It’s been reborn again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀👀


	12. Chapter Twelve - Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and feedbacks on the last chapter! I have classes all day today and then it's my flatmate's 21st today too (which we'll celebrate pretending like we're Harry Potter at the Dursley - staying inside and not meeting up with any friends because of a certain pandemic 😢) So truthfully I wasn't completely sure when I'd get time to upload another chapter, so got up early before class to edit and am just uploading it now between classes 😊 I hope ye all like this chapter! x

_Mikasa_

Her eyes opened. Opposite her, Jean’s mouth fully fell open in shock, and Armin was too stunned to even respond.

The Armored Titan. Reborn.

This was big.

In the immediate months after the big battle, even before Reiner and Annie could fully be mourned, there’d been a massive search for the next Armored, Beast and Female Titans. It had been so long since a Titan Shifter had just died without being consumed, nobody was really sure how the rebirthing worked. Did the ability go to the very next born Eldian child after their deaths? Or could it be months, years, before a baby was born with the ability of the titan.

“Her name is Cirila.” Falco spoke softly. “She’s not full Eldian, I think her grandmother was though, she ran away from Marley, fifty years or so back. Cirila…" He paused, pressing the heel of his palm against his cheekbone. "She’s seven.”

“What happened?” Armin was the first to recover.

Falco sighed, his eyes downturned. “She transformed at her school. Took out most of the building, and in the first few panicked moments managed to trampled whatever was left to rubble. The state, it’s even further south than Hizuru, never had to deal with Titans, didn’t even know how to. They just fired bullets at her. She ended up destroying most of the town before she collapsed from exhaustion.”

There was silence at the table. Mikasa could see a young girl, not unlike herself at that age. She couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like, the pain, the shock, the confusion.

“What happened to her?”

“Well, the government wanted to kill her immediately, but Marley got word of her and managed to make some sort of deal. She’s been in Marley for six months –“

“ _Six months?!”_ Jean stared at Falco, who nodded slowly.

“They’ve been keeping it quiet, like kill-the-guards-when-they-change-posts kind of quiet. She’s picked up the language incredibly quickly, but –“

“How have you gotten to hear about her?” Mikasa soft voice cut through Falco’s.

Falco sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because she has all Reiner’s memories. Like _everything._ She barely knows where she begins now and where he ends. She keeps trying to transform to break the wall, and then she's back to reality, trying to transform to find her parents, and then next she transforms again to stop Eren.

“She shouted mine and Gabi… and Udo and Zofia’s name.” He paused before he said their names, and the pain in his voice palpable.

“Obviously it’s way too dangerous for Gabi to go, but they thought I’d be able to handle her. Even if she transformed, she’s still relatively weak.”

He sighed, burying his hands in his hair. “So I went.”

“Did they make you?” Jean asked quietly, and Falco looked up in surprise.

“No of course not. But they knew I’d go. Because they knew I owe it to Reiner.”

“They’d knew you’d go because you’re a decent person Falco. They knew you wouldn’t want want a child to suffer.” Armin added softly.

“It was so _odd._ She ran to me, hugging me for dear life, and started crying. I asked her was she hurt, was she okay, and she looked up at me in shock. ‘ _I was so worried about_ you _Falco_! _I thought Eren must've gotten you, I tried to protect you, you know I’d never let him hurt you. You have to save Gabi.’”_

Mikasa looked at Falco. He wasn’t looking at any of them, but instead staring at a spot on the wall. She could tell he was seeing it all in his mind again.

“It was awful. It was like someone cut up and then spliced Reiner back up, only in the wrong order. She was an echo of him. A cheap parody that distorted the meaning behind his words.”

Jean went to speak, but Falco continued talking, as if now that he had started he had to get it out.

"She didn’t understand that she was safe, she kept telling me we had to get out, had to escape. One time a doctor came, and she transformed before I could stop her.” Falco made a popping noise. “Doctor went splat.”

“Every time I’d go, it was like I had to lose Reiner all over again. And she always asks where Colt is, if he’s safe too. And then asking what happened to Porco, is he around. I can’t keep going, because it’s breaking me from the inside out. And I know what Marley is up to. They want to train, to weaponise her." He took a ragged breath. “Every single time, having to hear Colt and Porco and Zofia and Udo’s names again, over and over and over. It _destroys_ me.”

“And the more I go, the calmer she becomes and the easier it is to control her. I know what they have planned for her, the things they'll make her do in the name of Marley. The more I go the more I help them. But I can’t _not_ go, because she’s just a child. A stupidly innocent child in all this. And it’s like eights years ago all over again. That's what I keep thinking. When I was a stupidly innocent child and Reiner and Colt and Porco all protected me, all died for me. I'm the age you were when when you all saved my life.”

At that Mikasa looked back down at the table again. She had never saved Falco’s life.

Jean went to speak again, but Falco’s voice burst out. “And the worst thing is sometimes I _swear_ I recognise Reiner in her. Not just _oh Reiner used to say that;_ as in she’ll ask something that _only_ Reiner would ask, or she’d look at me _exactly_ how he would. And for a moment I think he’s buried in there with her, begging me to help him.” Falco broke off, burying his head in his arms. Great sobs wracked his body, and Mikasa felt like she was intruding. She wanted to get up and leave, but she knew if nothing else the death glare Jean would send her would make her sit down again.

None of them moved for a moment, and then Armin stretched across, resting his hand on Falco’s back. Mikasa watched the wide, rubbing motions. When she was younger she’d been the one on the receiving end of Armin’s calming process.

In time, Falco’s sobs quietened, his body growing still.

“We’ll figure something out Falco.” Armin spoke gently, emphasising his words by leaning over and squeezing Falco’s neck. “We always do.”

Mikasa looked away, thinking about the countdown on Armin and Falco’s life, the one problem they hadn’t found a solution for. A year. Armin only had a year left unless they figured something out.

Falco nodded, but Jean spoke up. “We’re serious Falco. You’re not alone. There’ll be something we can do, somehow we’ll save them.”

Both Armin and Jean turned to Mikasa, pushing her to say something. She coughed. “If there’s a will, there’s a way.”

It sounded cliché, but it had to be true. She had all the will in the world. And there had to be a way for Armin had to outlive Ymir’s curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saw the story's finally hit 1000 hits and 90 kudos... Wha?!?! How did that happen? I'm honestly so grateful and honoured 💖 Wow thank you all so much for reading my silly story. As a kinda lil celebration/thank you I just checked and the next chapter is reasonably short and doesn't need much editing, so I'm going to upload it quickly between classes! Thanks again so much x


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for over 1000 hits! I cannot believe it - I remember deciding to upload chapter 1, and making peace with the fact nobody would probably read it. Tbh, I was more putting it up so I had a backup of it besides my laptop. I honestly cannot fully fathom that people have clicked on my story 1000 times! I keep thinking that more people have read my lil Jeankasa fic than ever listened to my old principle give assembly at school😂 Thank you also for over 90 kudos (?!) and all the wonderful comments and bookmarks. I hope you enjoy the chapter 😊💖

_Jean_

Jean shuffled the cards, making sure none spilled out. Mikasa had gone to bed early (or _earlier_ than usual anyway), and he and Armin had stayed up with Falco.

“Go Fish? Or Snap?” None of them had learned any games more complex than those two options.

“Snap.” Armin said firmly, hiding a yawn. “I’m too tired to think for Go Fish. I’ll lose.”

“Armin, even on two cups of coffee you lose at Go Fish.” Jean replied good naturedly.

Jean glanced at Falco, who offered up a little smile. “How about you Falco? Snap’s good?”

“Snap’s always good.”

Jean dolled out the cards into three piles, careful not to move too sharply. Armin had managed to find an old supply of medicine they’d have for years. Even though the tablets looked wildly out of date, they’d reduced the pain in his side to a soft ache. Either way, he was trying to move as little as possible. Snap was definitely not the game for right now, but he didn’t mind. It might pick Falco up a little to win a game of Snap.

Jean shook his head, scoffing at himself.

“You know Falco, I keep forgetting that you’re not a little kid anymore. That you’re like, grown up.”

"I don’t feel very grown up.” Falco said softly as he collected his pile. “Most of the time I feel like I’m just pretending I know what I’m doing, and hoping everyone else will believe me.”

Jean laughed. “Hate to break it to you kid, but you’re living the true experience of being an adult. Only good thing is that nobody notices you’re bluffing because they’re all too busy hoping you don’t see through their façade. Nobody really knows what they’re doing. Well, nobody except Armin.”

Armin snorted at that as he laid the first card down. An ace. “You think I ever knew what was going on? Ever? I was too busy trying not to get eaten for most of my teenage years to actually _think_ long-term about anything. Whenever you guys would ask me for a plan, I was petrified. I had no clue I –“

“ _Snap!”_ Falco’s hand slapped the pile, and he happily collected the cards. Jean went next, placing a seven down.

“Nah, you always had enough sense in you. I mean look at you, youngest Commander of the Scouts ever –“

“Yeah, fat lot of help I’ve been at that –“

“You both have way more sense than me.” Falco said in such a way that made both Jean and Armin turn to him.

“Huh?” Without looking Jean put another card down.

“I mean,” Falcon looked between the two of them, “when you guys were around my age, you both personally saved my life. And not just in the broad sense of battle. I mean personally. Mr Arlert once and Mr Kirschstein twice.”

They both went to speak at the same time to correct their names, but Armin quietened down first and Jean continued.

“Listen kid, for the _billionth time,_ it’s Jean alright? And when did I ever save your life.”

“Well, Mr Arlert-“

“Armin _please_.”

“Sorry, _Armin_ stopped Connie from feeding him to his mom, and you saved me when you went to throw the Thunder Spear at Pieck and I tried to protect her and you missed on purpose.”

Jean furrowed his eyebrows. “Really? I missed a death shot at a titan? Doesn’t sound like me.”

Armin tutted loudly. “Of course it does.”

“And then the other time was with Floch, when he tried to throw me and Gabi-“

Falco didn’t need to finish for the immediate reaction of the two men. Armin exhaled air through his nose, while Jean scowled at even the mention of their old comrade’s name.

“Christ I hated that kid.”

And then suddenly Armin seemed to realise what Falco had been saying. “Wait. He wanted to _throw_ you and Gabi _off an airship?”_

Falco shrugged. “Gabi had just killed Sasha. I can understand it.”

“Well it’s good thing he didn’t ask your for permission, isn’t it?” Jean said sharply. Christ he should’ve worked out something was wrong with Floch at that.

He noticed Armin staring at him. “What?”

“You stopped Floch from throwing the two of them overboard? After Sasha had died.”

He shrugged. “Well _yeah._ What good would killing two kids do?”

Armin kept eye contact with Jean as he placed another card down. “I knew-“

“ _Snap!!”_ Falco shouted as he collected the cards again.

“Falco, there’s no need to roar.” Jean snapped. For some reason the conversation had put him in a pissy mood.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway Falco, you saved all our lives when you stopped Eren.” Armin spoke softly as he placed his last card down.

Jean watched Falco, the way he gulped. For a moment he saw the shadow he’d seen earlier on his face appear. The fear.

“About that Mr Arlert, there's something I need to-“

Whatever Falco had been saying was destroyed by a high-pitched scream that shot through the air. The two others jumped up, and Jean winced as he stood as quickly as he could.

“What was-?”

“From upstairs?”

Him and Armin made eye contact at the same time.

“Mikasa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh row (the second)  
> This is like my comfort chapter, because it has a little bit of everything - Falco, Armin and Jean joking, and Mikasa doing whatever the heck Mikasa has been doing.  
> Also this story stans Floch hatred 😤🙅


	14. Chapter Fourteen - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos🥳💖 Thank you all so much!!!

_Armin_

The three of them stood outside her room, unsure how to proceed. Armin could hear her inside, her soft whimpers and cries. She sounded terrified.

“It’s definitely her.” As soon as he said it he realised how redundant that statement was.

“Armin!” Jean reached up, hissed in pain but still grabbed Armin’s top, demanding attention. “I need to know what she told you on the walk. I think she’s in a trance, but did she mention if she’s aware of anything? Light or voices or -“ His voice trailed away when he saw Armin’s expression.

“Please. Armin. I beg of you. Please do not tell me you spent _hours_ outside with her, one-on-one, and you didn’t think to ask _once_ why she had attacked your other best friend?!” Even though they were talking in hushed voices, Jean still managed to project his voice.

“Jean-“ Armin raised in hands, very glad in that instance that Falco was between him and Jean. “Jean I didn’t want to do any more damage! I just needed her out of the house-“

Armin pretended not to notice the way Jean glared at him. “And you thought –“

“Guys I think she’s saying something.” Falco interrupted them.

The three men quietened, listening to the door.

Armin’s eyebrows furrowed. She was definitely making whimpering. It sounded like a word. _Air?_ What was is she saying? Why was she saying the same word, crying out for-

Eren.

Armin understood it a moment before Jean did, and turned to see his friend’s expression darken.

“She’s crying out for Eren.” Jean announced flatly.

“She sounds like she’s trapped in a nightmare – we have to go and help her-“ Falco took a step forward, but was yanked back by Jean.

“Listen kid, you’re not going anywhere near her-“

Armin joined in. “We don’t know what’s happening, but it started the moment she saw your titan. Something about you triggered this.”

Falco looked crestfallen, but nodded slowly.

“And besides, if she attacks you, can you one hundred percent promise me you won’t turn into a titan by accident?”

Falco looked at Jean. “But I’m not the only titan here?”

Jean stopped whatever sharp quip he had loaded up, and cocked his head, considering Falco’s word.

Armin could see where this was going, and began to shake his head as Jean turned to him. “He’s right Armin, you –“

“Jean, I swear I have complete control.” He felt like he was pleading with Jean, but in his heart he knew it was true. He would never forgot the scene of devastation he left at that port; the crushed buildings and the insect-like bodies. As long as he had the power of the Colossal Titan, the world would never again face that devastation.

He could see Jean reading his expression, so just for good measure he added, “And anyway, what are you going to do? March in there by yourself? Bruised and bandaged?”

Jean looked at him for a beat, then nodded. “Alright. Falco, stay outside okay?”

Armin just had his hand on the handle when he suddenly remembered the swords. How hadn’t he thought of those before. He got Falco to retrieve them, and handed one to Jean. They shared a nod, and then entered the room.

Armin had always found it strange how Mikasa slept without any curtains or blinds, but in this instance he was glad of it. The moon’s watery light illuminated the room in whites and greys. He could make out Mikasa. She was on her bed, face turned upwards.

She was so still that for a moment Armin thought she had snapped out of whatever trance she had been in and gone back to sleep.

But then a whimper escaped through her lips, and her face contorted in an expression of terror. Her eyebrows furrowed, her nose scrunched up and her lips trembling. Her eyes shot open, but remained unseeing. She looked terrified, and Armin’s first impulse was to wake her up.

“ _Please…. Eren…”_ She gasped, her voice abruptly ending in a gasp as if she was being chocked. Beside him, he could sense Jean stiffen.

“Maybe she’s just having a nightmare?” Armin whispered to him, but even before he’d finished the question Jean was shaking his head.

“No. This was exactly what she was like last time too. It’s like a trance.” Jean grabbed Armin’s elbow, stopping him from getting any closer.

“What’s the plan, Armin?”

Armin stared down at their friend, his mind playing over the conversation him, Jean and Falco had been having.

_Just pretend you know what you pretend to know._

Even though he had absolutely no idea what the best course of action was, he tried to sound confident. “We’ll leave her. Go back downstairs. And if she wakes and finds us…” Armin let his voice fade away, the sword in his hand feeling incredibly heavy.

Jean nodded beside him. “I don’t think she’ll wake up. The only reason she attacked me last time was because I touched her.”

_"No… Wait… Eren!”_

Together, they softly left the room, closing the door with slowly. Falco was watching from the bottom of the stairs, worry written across his face.

“What happened?”

Armin shrugged. “We left her sleeping. Hopefully as long as she’s not disturbed she’ll just sleep through it-“

Armin’s voice faded off as he watched Jean shrug on his jacket. “Jean, where are you going?”

“Out.”

“But Mr Kirschstein, it’s freezing. You should be resting!”

Jean paused by the door, then turned and placed a hand on Falco’s shoulder. “I won’t sleep, I’ve slept away most of the day and now I’m wide awake. You take my bed, you must be still wrecked from your travel, okay?” His voice was surprisingly soft. “I’m just going for a walk, I’ll be fine.”

Falco opened his mouth to speak, but Jean cut over him.

“And no I don’t need company okay? Go to bed, I just need to clear my head.”

Falco gave one last look at Jean before slowly heading up the stairs.

Armin watched Jean for a moment.

“He’s right. You need to rest.”

“And I’m right too. I need to clear my head.”

Armin nodded. He knew Jean long enough at this stage. There was no arguing with him when he was like this.

“Well at least take the sword with you.”

Jean looked down in surprise, as if he had forgotten about about the sword in his hand.

“Worried I’ll meet some bite-sized titans?”

Armin smiled. “Something like that yeah.”

As he went towards the stairs, he paused to place a hand on Jean’s shoulder. For a moment the two men were still, and then Armin patted his shoulder and left.

He paused outside Mikasa’s door. He could hear soft gasps, but they were much quieter now. It sounded like she was calming down. He guessed leaving her alone was the right decision in the end.

When he walked into the room, he smiled gently at Falco. The boy was passed out asleep on Jean’s bed, so exhausted he hadn’t even gotten under the covers before he had fallen asleep.

Even though he thought Mikasa was calming down, he still locked the door. And even though he was so tired his head kept nodded, he stayed awake, his hands gripped around the sword. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me tryna figure out whether the AO3 spellcheck is lighting up like a Christmas tree because a) it's the British spelling, b) it's a name from AOT or c) I just can't spell👀  
> Also I'm so excited to share with you guys the next 2 chapters! Jeankasa angst and fluff coming right up 💖


	15. Chapter Fifteen - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeankasa! Part 1

_Mikasa_

Mikasa raised a hand, squinting against the sun. She was surprised; judging by the height it hung in the sky, it was more than a few hours after sunrise. It wasn’t like her to sleep through the dawn.

She went to get dressed, before remembering she had torn her top to make rags for Jean. She had another shirt uniform, but she’d used that for gardening yesterday with Armin. Her eyes fell on it crumpled in a heap, crusty with dried dirt.

She sighed, surveying her other options before shrugging on a jumper. She doubted any of the boys would be up yet, she could quickly wash and put out her top to dry, and then change out of the jumper before any of them had even awoken.

She couldn’t remember where she had gotten it from, but from the sheer size of it alone assumed it had been one of the boys’. Probably Jean’s. He was bigger than Armin. She must've borrowed it on a walk and never gotten around to giving it back. Or, more likely, he assumed she was cold, and had insisted she took it, and she eventually relented just to keep him quiet.

She rolled up the sleeves until they were acceptable lengths, and gave herself one last look over in the mirror. She had lost weight, she thought dully. The jumper dipped along her shoulders, revealing bones jutting out against pale skin. She looked weak, breakable. She resolved to make some fry ups for herself soon.

She padded softly down the stairs, but froze when she noticed a body slumped in one of the kitchen chairs.

Jean.

She looked at his hunched back, imagining she could make out beneath the shirt the pin-prick scars that she knew dotted his skin. Another souvenir from the Rumbling.

She debated scurrying back into her room, but instantly decided against it. She couldn’t go along ignoring the fact she’d attacked him forever. It wasn’t fair on him.

Plus, she really needed to wash that top.

She continued, and softly entered the kitchen. She was retrieving the washing tub from under the sink when he stirred, and she looked over at him and grimaced in a welcome-to-being-awake kind of way.

He blinked, focusing his gaze on her.

She went back to retrieving the tub.

The silence stretched as she lifted the metal bowl up, and it felt strange. She realised he had always been the one to talk first, to make conversation. She had been waiting for him.

“Why are you sleeping down here?” She forced herself to break the silence.

When he didn’t answer, she looked back at him. His forehead was creased, and his gaze seemed to be going right through her. It felt like he was studying her.

When he caught her eye, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Couldn’t sleep. Lying down hurts my side.”

Mikasa felt a blush warm her cheeks. It was because of her. She needed to explain, apologise. She began to speak as she put her top in the bowl, but he spoke right over her.

“Do you not remember last night?”

She filled the tub with water, looking back at him.

“Last night? Falco talked and-“

“I mean _you._ After you’d gone to sleep.” He spoke harshly, and Mikasa realised with a strange sense of surprise it was the first time he’d ever interrupted her.

When she didn’t respond, he continued, his voice softer. “You had another weird trance. Crying out. Frozen. I’m pretty sure Armin stayed awake half the night making sure you didn’t jump out of bed and try to kill us all.”

Mikasa’s mouth opened, but she didn’t make a sound. It had happened again.

“Did I… did I say anything?”

She felt Jean’s stern look on her, but he then looked away before answering. “No. Just whimpered and cried. It was like you were _living_ in a memory. A nightmare.”

She nodded, adding soap kernels to the tub before sliding into the seat beside him.

“I…” She bowed her head, and she could feel his gaze take her in. “I’m sorry Jean. I’m sorry I attacked you. I’m…” She bit her lip, trying to force the words out. She could apologies alright, but even as a child she found it difficult to _thank,_ to accept that she had needed help.

“And thank you. For stopping me.”

She raised her head to look at him, and he exhaled deeply and looked away, a strange smile tugging on the corner of her lip.

She felt the blush reappear, and focused on his fingertip tapping a rhythm against the table.

“What did you see? Where did you think you were?”

Mikasa felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to say, she wanted to bury it deep within her. But she owed him in. Broken ribs and bruises in exchange for her tears and secrets.

“I… I saw Falco, when he landed I mean and we were all rushing out. And then I saw him again, only… only we were back. Back _there._ And I could see everyone, see them dying. I could see Reiner and Annie getting ripped apart by titans, Connie and you and Armin fighting a losing battle. I could hear the screams. I could _smell_ the blood. Sasha, Connie, Annie, Reiner, Armin. You. And it was everywhere. And…” She took a shuddering breath, and buried her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut.

“And he was behind me.”

“Eren.”

She nodded, clenching her fingers until she could feel individual hairs being ripped out.

Besides her, Jean didn’t say anything, but continued tapping against the table. It was a strangely relaxing sound, and Mikasa found herself calming, her breathes slowing down in time to his tapping.

“It’s okay Mikasa.” His murmured. His voice was soft, and it was so far removed from his usual bluster. He sounded ragged and exhausted. He sounded vulnerable.

It was so unlike Jean that she raised her head. He wasn’t looking at her, but instead staring straight ahead. She took in his softened eyes, downturned lips. He looked like he was seeing something she couldn’t quite make out. As if a great wave of sadness was sweeping through him, but he accepted it fully. Even embraced it.

When he felt her gaze on him, he turned, and offered a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The lines carved against his once smooth face were testament to Mikasa to the thoughts he kept buried within.

“I promise you, you’re free now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... What could Jean mean???🤔  
> I love this chapter and the next. Chapter 16 follows immediately on, only from Jean's POV and it was honestly one of my favourite chapters to write. Did someone say angst? Also it's 2.24am and I can barely see I'm so tired so I'll be sure to give the chapter a good going-through in the morning, but if I missed any spellchecks in the edit just now my deepest apologies x


	16. Chapter Sixteen - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Chapter 16! I would say this and chapter 8 still are my favourite chapters to write (both from Jean's POV lol). I would consider this one of the most important chapters in the entire plot, and it really shifts the story into its full direction. And plus I adore chapter 127 of the manga, and got to pore over it while writing this one so I was happy out 🥰 I'd love to hear your thoughts on it x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeankasa! Part 2

_Jean_

“You’re free now.”

As soon as he said the words he realised that they were true. He was releasing her, severing the longing that had sprouted from the first time he had seen her, all those years ago.

He could tell from the way her eyes narrowed slightly his words puzzled her, but he hoped she’d understand. One day.

She was free. And he was free from her.

Last night he had sat by the river behind the hut, watching the inky water rush past him. In the darkness, there was no colours, no life, nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

He had prepared himself for this moment, listening to the water burbling over smooth stones. She had tried to attack him. She had never _once_ showed any interest in him beyond a friend. She still called out to Eren in her sleep.

Jean had thrown his head back, examining the stars the pierced through the darkness, but in reality picturing the future he’d so often dreamt of one last time.

An apartment in the city somewhere. Him drinking the finest wine, her inside, playing with their child.

It was stupid and pathetic, but also so simplistic he wanted to cry. He held the image for a moment more, and then let it dissipate into the air, drifting away to the sounds of the river.

Mikasa would never love him, because she had never truly stopped loving Eren. The truth was cold and cruel, but could not be ignored any longer.

He had been holding on to a child’s dream, and it was finally time to grow up.

And right there, in the kitchen, he realised he’d done it. It was gone, over. Like a wave that washed over him, clearing his vision, he was free finally to see her properly. For the first time in a long time.

She was just a person. And she was like any of them. Scared and confused and hurt. Capable to do both the hurt and hurting.

He looked at her, at her dark eyes and pale skin and hair pinned back. She wasn’t his saviour, wasn’t his ‘missing piece’. She was broken in the same ways he was, there was nothing he was missing that she wasn’t. She couldn’t fill in the gaps to give him a perfect life.

He realised that now. He should’ve realised it a long time again.

“Jean what-“

He interrupted her, standing slowly as he did. “I’ll help you hang your washing out.”

***

Jean was asleep on one of their armchairs when Falco and Armin arrived downstairs. He started to hear their footsteps on the stairs, and then cursed when pain sparked in his ribs. He’d have to see if Armin could give him any more of those painkillers.

Mikasa was a few meters away, trying to clean their sofa. Jean hadn’t realised how much he had bled, but he could see rust-like stains on the upholstery that Mikasa was roughly scrubbing at. He watched her, repressing any emotion that bubbled up until after a moment he felt like he could’ve been looking at anyone. She was just a person.

The-person-who-was-Mikasa stopped when she saw the two boys, leaning back on her haunches.

“Jean told me about last night. I don’t remember any of it, but from the sounds of it just leaving me be seems like the best option.”

Falco clearly decided food was above this conversation, and headed into the kitchen. Jean could tell though that Armin was relieved not to have to bring up the topic himself, and sat down in the only other free chair in the room.

“Do you remember attacking Jean?”

She shrugged, returning to the scrubbing. “Yes and no. I remember fight _someone,_ but I didn’t think it was Jean. I thought I was… somewhere else.”

Jean wondered why she was keeping the details from Armin, but if Armin noticed how vague she was being he didn’t pick her up on it.

“Interesting. So it is like some sort of a trance. Or hallucination I guess. It’s like –“

Falco reappeared with a bowl full of leftover porridge Jean had made early. He proclaimed something garbled beyond recognition but quite proudly, pointing a spoon in Mikasa’s direction.

All three of them turned to him, three pair of eyebrows raised.

“Sorry.” He swallowed his mouthful. “I just said I actually heard of a case or two like that down South. It’s not even that rare. Soldiers can’t acclimatise back to normal life. Go mental. Kill every-“ Falco’s voice faded when he realised what he was saying, and then began talking way too quickly. Jean rolled his eyes affectionately.

“But everything below the north of Hizuru has to be taken with a grain of salt. I mean I’ve heard stories of a blindman who every morning walked across a lake to get to the market and a Paradis solider who lives in the high mountains drinking tea and a local breed of dogs who can speak to humans but only when there’s a full moon and-“

“Easy Falco, slow down kid.” Jean gestured to him to calm down. “It’s okay it’s-“

“What did you say? A Paradis soldier?” Armin straightened in his chair.

“Um yeah.” Falco scratched the back of his head. “I was in this town near enough to the border of Hizuru and the Middle East Union, and got talking to some local housewives. Apparently a lone man who spoke with a similar accent to mine lived up on the mountains. I asked around and word of mouth was there definitely had been a soldier who passed through six months previous or so.”

Falco paused, counting something out on his fingers. “Although I guess now that would’ve been closer to seven years ago now. Anyway he exchanged some coins for food and material. The merchant I was talking to was pretty annoyed actually, because it was only after the soldier was gone did he realise that the coins were pretty much useless. He showed me them in disgust. It took me awhile to recognise them, but when I saw the three rings stamped within each other I recognised that it was coins from here, from Paradis Island.”

“And what did you do?”

Falco shrugged. “I was there to see if an village elder had this old scroll I’d been on a mad hunt for, so not a while lot other than look for the scroll. I ventured near enough to the mountains where apparently this soldier had gone. It was like this explosion of trees and bushes and vines and animals and beetles. No way I’d go in, I’d get lost within a few footsteps. I couldn’t imagine any person would be able to go in there and find their way back.”

“Did anyone mention what he looked like? The soldier I mean?” Mikasa’s voice was soft, and Jean looked over to her.

“I actually didn’t ask. But they called him this word I hadn’t heard before, and I remember thinking it was odd so asked a translator when I was back in the capitol. Apparently it basically means _raven-haired bastard.”_ He chuckled at the memory, clearing unaware of the shift in the room.

Jean was still watching Mikasa. On the surface her face was emotionless, but he knew her well enough to pick up on the minute changes in her expression. Her eyes lifted, meeting Armin’s, and Jean could all but see the name written across her face.


	17. Chapter Seventeen - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for all the support 💖 It really makes my day to read your lovely comments 🥰  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, tensions are ramping up! 💖😊

_Mikasa_

Eren.

She breathed deeply, his name like a flame, igniting her chest and spreading through her.

Eren.

She could see his name in Armin’s thoughts, the way his eyes darkened.

It was Eren. He was there. He had to be.

“How could a soldier from here got all the way over there?” She addressed Armin. She was pushing him into the idea, into the theory. She could tell from the way he minutely shook his head he didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

“Lots of way Mikasa. Boat and airship and even train.” He spoke softly, as if trying to break news gently to her.

She shook her head. “No.” She looked up at Falco, having almost forgotten his and Jean’s presence. “Falco, how long ago was it that you reckon the soldier had passed through? Close enough to seven years?”

Falco nodded and she looked back to Armin. “That would’ve been the year straight after… the _time._ The whole world was still recovering. There was barely any travelling. Infrastructure was destroyed, the different countries were still focusing on rebuilding their cities, not tourism. Even if you walked, it would’ve taken years to get to the Hizuru border. It wasn’t possible, unless –“

“You’re assuming that this person left at a certain time.” Jean spat into the conversation, surprisingly curt. She shot him a look. He clearly knew what she was thinking too. “It could have been _any_ soldier at _any_ time. They mightn’t have even been from here! Just because they had the coins doesn’t mean anything. How do we even know this person was a soldier in the first place?!” His question hung in the air, and all three turned to Falco.

Falco seemed to have picked up on the mood, and had been steadily backing towards the kitchen with his oatmeal until the attention was back on him. “Well… I don’t. That was one of the terms the merchants used to describe him with and I… I mean it’s probably nothing. The place was saturated in myths and stories and legends. The merchant could’ve just collected the coins and spun a mystery around them, and the housewives thought it was funny to dupe a visitor like me. It’s not worth the time thinking about it.”

Mikasa knew Falco was just trying to defuse the tension, but that irked her even more. If he had just _gone and checked the mountain in the first place._

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She needed to get her thoughts in order. They were right, there was no proof it was Eren. According to Falco there wasn't even proof a person had been there in the first place.

But something in her heart tugged. It was so quiet nowadays that whenever it stirred, she listened to it.

And it was telling her that the strange soldier had been Eren.

She opened her eyes, all but disregarding Jean from the conversation.

“Armin. You _know_ it’s something he would do. Go to the very bottom of the map, live in _freedom,_ in a wild, unbound nature. Live free. Away from us.” She ignored the emotions those words caused, and continued to appeal to Armin. Armin looked away, biting his lip as he considered her words.

“Who else could it be?”

“Just about anyone under the sun!” Abruptly Jean stood from his chair, sharply breathing as he gripped his side for a moment. He was momentarily distracted, but narrowed his eyes and focused back on Mikasa. “It could have been _anyone!_ And anyway, they’re long gone. You _heard_ Falco! It was seven years ago!” As if the name struck another thought, he gestured towards the boy, who was trying to finish his porridge as quietly as possible.

“That’s a point! _Falco!_ We _all_ saw him _eat_ Eren! He’s the got the power of the Founding Titan! How could Eren be-?! No. Eren is _dead!”_ He ended almost in a shout, and then deflated, sitting back down as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that came out –“

“By the end Eren was the most powerful force _ever_ seen. He had _three_ titan powers! We don’t even know what his potential was! Whose to say-?!”

Mikasa watched Jean take a shuddering breath. She could tell he was trying to reign himself in, to think up a logical argument before he opened his mouth again. It was strange. She couldn’t remember Jean ever being this _angry_ at her, this _argumentative._ It was like in that moment he hated her.

His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth and Mikasa straightened, mentally steeling herself.

“What the hell-“

“It’s possible.” Armin spoke softly, but the two of them froze, turning to him. He wasn’t looking at either of them. Instead he was staring at the floor, biting his thumb. “It’s possible.”

“Armin?” Jean half-collapsed back onto his chair. “Not you too.” Mikasa stole a glance at him, noting how shocked, and almost devastated, he looked.

“I just mean…” Armin still didn’t look up, speaking slowly. “… just mean that Mikasa has a point. We didn’t know what he could do, we never did until he went and did it. How can we rule out with certainty that he wasn’t able to rejuvenate a human body like he could with a titan body?”

“Because we saw him die! How are you two forgetting this?! He’s _dead! He’s-“_

“How do we know for sure?” Mikasa shot out, stopping Jean midsentence. He just stared at her with wide eyes.

“ _Because Falco ate him! Falco has-“_

“Falco has only ever exhibited the abilities of the Attack Titan. There’s no indication he has the ability of the either the Founding Titan or War Hammer Titan.” Again, Armin refused to look at anyone other than the floor. He spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing his words.

Jean looked at Falco, imploring him to correct Armin. Falco seemed to be currently fascinating with picking out oat husks from his porridge, and stared down at the bowl as his face progressively reddened.

“And Falco has never had any of Eren’s memories, has he?” Mikasa looked at Falco.

“Alright, leave Falco out of this.” Jean snapped, the hint of protectiveness in his voice. “It’s all trivial anyway, because there’s no way that-“

“He could have split himself. Almost like when Reiner spread his consciousness through his entire body after Captain Levi stabbed his neck. In the moment before Falco attacked him, he could have spread himself through all three titans within him, and Falco only got the Attack Titan. Meaning that Eren-“ Armin finally lifted his gaze to meet Mikasa’s.

Her heart thudded in her chest like it was going to explode.

“Meaning that Eren could still be alive.”

Abruptly, Jean shot up out of the chair. The chairs loudly scrapped against the wooden floor, and Mikasa looked down.

“Come on Falco.” He muttered darkly as he left. “I need to get some air. Leave those two to move on to convincing themselves that the sky is really green.”

She could tell he turned, looking at them, and she wondering if he was waiting for them to say something or if he was waiting for himself to speak. There was a beat of silence, and then she could hear him scoff and two sets of footsteps left.

She looked back at Armin, meeting eyes as bright as the sea, sparkling with intelligence.

“Do you really think there’s a chance?” She spoke softly, the kindling of hope in her heart easily extinguished with only one word from Armin.

But Armin held her gaze, and began to nod slowly. “I’m not saying it’s probably. But it definitely seems possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falco in corner, just tryna enjoy his porridge in peace 🧍🥣


	18. Chapter Eighteen - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just made a few edits in previous chapters (mostly because I forgot some characters lol whoops). In chapter 2, it's mentioned that Queen Historia is still ruling along with her daughter, Princess Amoria. Historia is also very briefly mentioned in passing in chapter 6, when Armin is talking about how even she was in favour of getting rid of Connie's mother.  
> Also in chapter 2, I added the sentence when describing the room "There were even a few treasured notes left by Pieck during her last year." So Pieck's survived the Rumbling! Yay! But then died a year later :(  
> And that's all you missed on ✨Glee✨

_Armin_

The two of them were poring over a map when Falco and Jean returned. The desk Mikasa had spent hours tidying was back to being a mess of papers and books piled high. They had searched for any previous history of a titan shifter being able to rejuvenate their human bodies. It had been fruitless, but they had quickly turned their attention to the border area. Armin could tell Mikasa was already mentally planning a trip, trying to figure the quick route through Marley and Hizuru to the border.

The two had been gone a good few hours, and he could feel Mikasa still beside them when the door swung open. Armin’s eyes widen when he saw Jean stagger in, his face twisted in discomfort. As soon as he saw Armin, he forced himself to straighten and his face to become emotionless.

Armin’s gaze drifted to his hand that was hugging his side, and the ODM strapped to his waist, and sighed.

“Don’t.” Jean growled, and Armin held hands up, palms forward.

Beside him, Mikasa turned and watched as Falco helped Jean take off the gear. Armin trailed his finger down the map they had been looking at and then walked to them.

Jean collapsed in a chair, hissing in discomfort but clearly trying to be as quiet as possible.

“I’m sorry I told him –“

“It’s alright Falco, Jean is a force of his own.” Armin murmured softly as he prepared some tea for him. “Have you been wrapping your chest like I told you?”

“Yes.” Jean mumbled.

“Did you take any painkillers this morning?”

When Jean shook his head, Armin reached up to the cabinet and retrieved two of the white pills from a vial. As the water reached it’s boil, he poured two cups of strong chamomile tea and placed them on the table, along with the two pills.

Jean eagerly swallowed the pills, wincing at the taste.

“I think we should go.”

The three men started at Mikasa’s voice behind them. Armin squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. _This isn't the time Mikasa._

She appeared in the doorway, her arms folded but her body relaxed, leaning against the frame.

When nobody responded, she continued.

“ _If_ it Eren, he should still have the abilities of the Founding Titan. Like Armin said earlier, nobody knows what he can do with that. He could be able to extend Ymir’s Curse by years or even decades. Maybe even destroy it. And even if he’s not that powerful anymore, he surely could tell us what we need to do to to reverse it. Who to go to. What to do.”

Armin looked at Falco and then Jean. Falco was nursing his tea, leaning against the counter. He was looking out the window, his eyebrows furrowed as if trying to detach himself from the entire conversation. Jean meanwhile wasn’t rising to Mikasa’s words like before. Instead he was slumped in the chair, shallow breathing and listlessly watching the steam rise from his tea.

_Should… Can… Could…_

Armin looked at Mikasa. She was back to using present tense when talking about Eren. His heart ached for her, for her hopeless, vulnerable optimism.

“Armin, what do you think?” Jean no longer sounded angry. Just tired.

Armin scratched the back of neck, choosing his words carefully, but Jean continued before he could speak.

“I mean, according to Falco, the trip will take three months each way. Meaning minimum six months to get an answer. Six months out of your last year, gambled on a half-heard story and forced hope.”

He met Jean’s gaze, and they shared a look.

“I think we should go.” He spoke softly, but even before he’d finished Jean had closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I mean, look how long we’ve been here, in this hut, _researching._ And how many breakthroughs have we had? How much closer are we to breaking Ymir’s Curse, to extending mine, or Falco’s life?”

Falco looked over, but quickly returned his gaze to the window, and Armin felt a current of guilt run through him at having to remind Falco of his life expectancy.

“You don’t have to come Jean. You can stay and continue the research.” Mikasa’s voice was unusually soft.

Jean looked up, giving her an absolutely _withering_ look. “Oh, and let you and Armin just run straight into a rainforest? Fat chance.”

He sighed, tilting his head back. “No, where you go, I go. For better or for worse I guess. I just wish you two would reconsider. It’s a fool's errand.”

He looked at Armin, a flash of his earlier anger returning. “Armin you should know better. Of course Mikasa would jump at this. But _you._ I just guess I expected better from you Armin. You should know better, I _know_ you know better.” He sighed.

Armin held his gaze, giving a minute shrug. “I guess I don’t.”

“No, I guess you don’t.

There was a beat of silence before Mikasa spoke again.

“We should leave soon, the earlier the better. We should try to return before Winter comes. The government are due to send an official in November to make sure Armin is still buried away here, but they shouldn’t notice anything is amiss as long as we’re back before then.”

Armin nodded, but that was the only indication anyone had heard her. Tipping his head back, Jean downed the tea in one.

“Would you give me a hand up the stairs please Falco?” He muttered as he slowly stood up from the chair.

Wordless Falco put down his already empty mug on the side and went to help Jean. Armin watched them leave, Mikasa slipping out of the way.

“Well that went well.” Armin said dryly when he could hear them in the room above.

Mikasa grunted in reply, but then blurted out as if against her better judgement.

“What did he mean? _Of course Mikasa would jump at it.”_

Armin sighed, leaning his head against the wooden wall behind him. There were enough things going on that evening, he didn’t want discussing Mikasa’s love life added to the list.

“Because he knows you Mikasa. Whether you like it or not, he knows you better than you think, probably better than you’d want.”

“I jumped at it because it’s possible. Why isn’t he happier at the prospect of Eren being alive?” There was a hardness in her voice that evaporated when she heard Armin’s chuckle.

He pushed himself away from the wall, the laugh growing in his throat.

“For someone whose normally wonderfully perceptive, you do have you blind spots, don’t you Mikasa?” He patted her shoulder, offering a smile before he headed to bed.

He left her standing in the kitchen, frozen to the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe chew on that Mikasa😎


	19. Chapter Nineteen - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! Here's some Jean and Falco chats, because I love them both

_Jean_

“I’m-“

“Listen kid, I swear if you apologise one more time I’ll have to abandon you outside some orphanage or something.”

Falco blushed. “I didn’t mean to say anything last night; I was just trying to make it better. Because I opened my mouth without thinking, and then went and tried to make it better by doing the exact same thing.”

Jean rolled his eyes. The two of them were walking to Trost to get some less dusty painkillers and pick up some more food. Despite his quiet presence, Falco sure did make a big impact on their food stock.

“I know you were trying to make it better. You weren’t to know the two of them were like starving dogs when it comes to news of Eren, ready to jump on any tidbit.” Although Jean really did need those painkillers, he could’ve just sent Falco into town. There was no real reason for him to go along. Truthfully, he needed space between him and the other two. Even thinking about them made his heart beat faster, anger immediately bubbling again.

“And I should’ve stopped you from going out into the forest-“ Falco began to say miserably, and more to shut him up than anything else Jean swung an arm around his shoulders, ignore the bite of pain in his side.

“Yeah but we had fun didn’t we? Don’t even try and tell me you didn’t miss it – hey have you gotten taller.” Jean narrowed his eyes, appraising the boy beside him.

Falco shrugged, a smile spilling out over the worry. “I guess. I’m taller than Mr Arlert now.”

“You’ll have to stop that. If you’re not careful you’ll be taller than me, and then I’ll be forced to do some questionable things to fix that.”

Falco laughed, and Jean could see the guilt he’d been carrying begin to lift, but it was quickly replaced by something else.

“What?”

Falco bit his lip, staring straight ahead. “Have you guys really made no progress in the research.”

Jean sighed, dropping his arm. He forgot that had been mentioned last night. “Armin’s the real mastermind of it all. But unless he’s keeping something from me, then no. Nothing yet.”

Falco nodded. “I think I’ll disappear. When my time is up I mean. A few months before I’ll go. Find somewhere like this, and die at peace.”

Jean stared straight ahead. They’d be entering Trost soon enough.

“It’s too much for one person. All of these titan inside.” Falco added softly.

Jean cleared his throat. “What if the Founding Titan ends up with someone like Eren?”

Falco shrugged. “Or it could end up with someone like you. Or Armin or Mikasa. Or even me. All I know is four titans is too much for any person; it's too much for a country to have. I know Marley are already planning my successor, are already putting into place the knowledge they'll soon have complete control over five of the titan powers."

Jean was silent for a moment. Above, birds flew over head, singing as they nestling in the trees that marked the path. “Did they try and make you into a weapon?”

Falco laughed softly. “They certainly tried. Why do I think I ran away in the first place? But they didn’t dare push me too far incase I do the whole Rumbling Part Two. And I know they debated killing me in the immediate year after the Rumbling, feeding me to one of their lackeys. But they didn't need Marley's international relations to boil over again, and I stayed quite and out of the way. The people adore me too, and whenever I bother to turn up at one of their parades the moral of of the country is buoyed. So as long as I don’t get in the way, stay quite and show my face every so often they give me free range.”

Jean was scuffed at a pebble in his way. “You don’t deserve that.”

Falco continued, as if he hadn’t heard Jean. “And I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind dying in five years. I’ll see Colt again. And Porco and Reiner. I can finally apologise. And thank them. But I keep thinking about Cirila and the others like her who have yet to be found. They’ll die before they’ve even gotten to really live. And then that brings me back to my first point, about just running away to die alone. Because that means I’ll basically be sentencing four innocent children to reach their teenage years only to then be eaten. To be used and experimented on and controlled like Cirila; to be made into a weapon before they die as they turn thirteen.” He let out a deep sigh, his breath entrenched with the weight of his conscience.

Jean looked at Falco, at the lines prematurely carved into his face. Unsure what else to do, he decided to take a leaf out of Armin’s book, and placed a hand on Falco’s back. He began to rub his back in slow, wide circles.

“Five years is still five years. Just because we haven’t discovered anything _yet_ doesn’t mean we _won’t._ And you know we’ll always be here for you right? You just said a whole lot of _I’s_ but not too many _we’s._ Me and Mikasa and Armin. We’ll work something out.” The back rubbing seemed to have the same effect on Falco as it had had on Jean, and he could hear Falco’s breathing grow more level. They were entering the gates of Trost, the market was right ahead on this street.

“Did… did Armin change much after he get the Collosum Titan power? From Bertolt I mean?” The change in topic was startling, and as Jean considered the question he dropped his hand.

“Truthfully I didn’t notice much change. They were both pretty similar guys to begin with; introspective, shy but sharp. I didn’t hang out with him as much as I do now though; I had two other friends. Mikasa’s the one to ask.”

“I don’t think Mikasa likes me.”

Jean snorted. “Trust me you would know if Mikasa didn’t like you. If she talks to you, you’re in her good books.”

Falco was quiet. “I think she can’t… forgive me I guess… for-“

“Mikasa knows full well that if you hadn’t killed Eren, he would’ve killed us all.” Jean said testily. “And if she acts any other way she needs to do a lot of soul searching.

Jean could sense Falco looking at him, surprised he was talking about Mikasa in such a harsh way.

“Actually, yeah I do remember something!” Jean thought about it before nodding to himself. “It was a widely accepted fact that Bertolt had a soft spot for Annie. And after Armin got his powers, Armin began going to where Annie was imprisoned. He knew her before obviously, but it was like he had suddenly… developed this connection to her he hadn’t had before.” He shrugged. "It's a pity she died in the Rumbling. Whose to say what the two of them could've become." 

Falco seemed to deflate with the news, nodding.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? You’re meant to be excited! We’re getting pastries!” Jean jostled his friend, trying to pick him up. He wasn’t sure why the news about Armin and Annie had effected him so much, but he looked almost as if he could cry.

“Hey kid, listen are you hungry?” Jean asked, making the decision in the instant.

“I’m always hungry, why?”

Jean placed his hands on Falco’s shoulders, stirring him away from the market’s direction and instead down a sharp to the left.

“Because I’m about to introduce you to the best cook in Trost, who just so happens to be my mother.”

Falco turned to look at Jean, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know your mum… I mean your mum-“

“I keep it quiet. Feels like boasting about being lucky, you know? Anyway, a word of warning.” They had stopped outside a nondescript door.

“What?”

“Well, she’s been begging me to bring my friends over for seven long years. Armin isn’t allowed in town, and fat chance I’d ever be able to convince Mikasa to come, so you’ll be the first one.”

He turned to Falco just before he knocked.

“So prepare yourself for seven years build up of treats, dinners and probably hugs too.”


	20. Chapter Twenty - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'd actually kinda of forgotten about this chapter until I was editing it. I really like this chapter, there's a drabble of Jeankasa, establishing Historia's character, Armin (yet again) being the Common Sense Factor of the group, and then a little look into Mikasa and Falco's relationship. I hope you all enjoy it!

_Mikasa_

The preparations were coming together surprisingly quickly. While Jean spent the next few days doing whatever he had to to avoid them, Armin and herself were devising the travel plan. Falco showed them on the map where the village was, and although it definitely was hard to get to, it made Mikasa’s blood fizz with excitement. It was like Eren had _purposely_ chosen the place furthest from the island as he could possible imagine.

They had debated taking a boat straight to Hizuru, but decided it would swallow too much of their funds. Armin received a modest enough payment from the government every six months. Mikasa had budgeted it at first, but then realised there was no point. When all you buy is food once a week from the market, money is surprisingly easy to save. They now had enough stored away to afford this trip, but it wouldn’t exactly be a luxurious journey.

So they had decided to head for Marley instead, exchange some coins and travel down the country to Hizuru. They debated having Mikasa contact her relatives in Hizuru, but she’d have to admit that Armin was with her, and that was a conversation they were hoping to avoid.

So instead they’d slip into the country, make their way towards its border and find the town. The plan began to become more vague at this point, but Mikasa assured Armin they’d have something thought up when they reached that stage.

Neither of them mentioned the idea of contacting Historia. Mikasa knew it was a painful point of topic for all of them. Historia. What had happened to the joyful girl they had all called their friend? After the Rumbling, she had gone into a similar grief as Mikasa, only hers was very much a more public affair. Mikasa remembered seeing photos of her, silent tears running down her face at the memorial, and wondered who exactly she was mourning for.

They had tried to keep in contact at first, sending letters every month or so. But she supposed she and Jean were more than a little slighted that Historia hadn’t even _tried_ to argue for Armin’s sake; instead letting him languish amongst abandoned homes and empty meadows.

At first her letters had been, if not a bit formal, still _Historia._ It was still Historia’s tone they heard through the words, still her voice they could imagine saying the sentences. But over the years, the letters grew more stagnant, shorter and more precise. The fun anecdotes of the little princess disappeared, instead replaced by a few stiff, formal lines. Until eventually, perhaps three or so years ago, they stopped completely.

So neither Armin or herself brought up the idea of asking Historia for permission, and they both pretended not knowing the other had also thought of it.

Even though Mikasa was throwing herself into the preparations, she couldn’t _not_ notice that Jean was still very much angry with the two of them.

_Whether you like it or not, Jean knows you better than you think, probably better than you’d want._

What had Armin meant by that? Despite her attempts to forget it, the words had firmly lodged themselves under her skin.

Something had changed in Jean. She struggled to put it in words, but there had definitely been a shift in how he acted, how he conducted himself. She was unused to him being so… hostile. Although she wasn’t sure if that was the correct term. It was like he had finally rid himself of restraints; he spoke more freely, and with a far sharper tongue.

“Mikasa!” Armin’s voice dragged her to the present, and she looked to see what he was pointing at. A letter.

“From what Falco said, the locals don’t speak our language too fluently, so perhaps we’ll have to get a guide.”

“We could just ask Falco?” She shrugged. “Doesn’t he speak the language well enough to get by.”

"You will most certainly _not_ be asking Falco.” Mikasa hadn’t heard come Jean enter the room, and started at his voice. She turned to see him standing against the doorway, arms folded.

“Kid has enough on his plate without getting dragged into this wild-goose chase.”

Mikasa shrugged. “It was just an idea.”

He looked at the two of them, his hair getting in his eyes. With a start Mikasa realised she hadn’t done their hair day recently. After one hair cut which was so disastrous neither of them could look at Armin without bursting out laughing, Mikasa had been anointed the unofficial hairdresser of the hut. Normally every three months or so she took a stool outside and cut their hair, letting the cut offs drift in the wind.

“Do you want me to cut your hair? It’s getting in your eyes.”

She could see the reaction her words had on Jean. For a moment, all the surliness disappeared, replaced instead by surprise. But then he closed himself back up, shrugging.

“I’ll manage thanks.” He grumbled. “But give one to Falco. Kid could plait it at this stage.”

Mikasa nodded, and he grunted, then left. Beside her, Armin scoffed.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes, but he ignored her gaze, continuing to look down at the papers in front of him.

***

Mikasa sat the chair on the grass, moving it around to make sure it was on even ground. Satisfied, she backed away, gesturing to the chair with scissors.

Falco eyed the instruments in her hand, before taking a hesitant seat.

Jean was right. She’d never seen it so long on him before; it was reaching his ears and at parts brushed against his shoulders. Before she could suppress it, an image of another boy who’d had a similar style floated into her vision. Another boy from another time. Mikasa blinked, swallowing it down as she picked up her comb.

“Usual length?” She murmured softly as the scissors took their first experimental snip.

Falco nodded, but then cleared his throat. “Uh yes please.”

She was silent as she worked, enjoying focusing all her attention on something so simple. Strands of half curls drifted down, drifting onto the grass like a new species of flowers. She was around half way through when Falco cleared his throat again.

“Uh, Mikasa?”

There was something innocent about him asking for her attention when she was literally cutting his hair, and because nobody was there to see she allowed the smile.

“Yes?”

He fidgeted in the chair. “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up… I didn’t get the feeling… I mean it was a one-off sighting months previous you know?”

“I know Falco.” She brushed another strand upwards, closing one eye as she trimmed the length.

“And I know he meant a lot to you –“

“He meant a lot to us all.”

“That’s what I meant.” He quickly added.

Mikasa measured two lengths against each other.

“You’re lucky your hair is curly enough, you can get away with uneven lengths. My hair is dead straight and –“

“Do you blame me?” He blurted the question out, and she looked at his profile, noticing how red he was.

“Blame you?”

“For-“ Falco took a deep breath, “for killing him. I know you were there, I know you could’ve done it.”

Mikasa’s hand grew still, the metal curve of the scissors digging into her palm.

“I haven’t told anyway.” Falco added quickly. “But I saw. I saw you lowering your sword. Saw how your shoulders slumped forward.”

Mikasa tried to swallow.

“I don’t remember-“ Her voice was so soft she wondered if he had even heard her. _What a pointless lie._

Falco shrugged. “Maybe I imagined it,” he said kindly, “but either way I always felt you blamed me. You hated me for doing it, for diving in when he was talking to you, when he was distracted.”

Mikasa squeezed shut her eyes, took a deep breath and forced her hands to move again.

“Of course I don’t hate you Falco.” She took a lock of hair, snipping softly at it. “You did what you had to, we all did.” _Except that I didn’t._

She pushed the voice back. “You’re sweet and innocent and kind, and you’re good for us. Just look at Jean. Recently, you’re the only one who he shares his smiles with.”

She paused, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You're part of this group. Now stop moving and let me finish this.”

She could tell her answer calmed him, but as she continued to snip at his golden curls, her heart was thudding. She felt vaguely ill.

She hadn’t thought anyone had saw. How could they? They were all battling a hundred titans each, nobody had had the awareness to watch her.

Except Falco. He knew. He had seen her. How she had lowered her sword at Eren. He, just a kid, had done what she couldn’t. He knew she had had the chance to end it all early, possible even save some of their friends. And he knew she hadn’t.

He knew that in that instant she had chosen Eren over them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Mikasa😔


	21. Chapter Twenty one - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww wow thank you so much for the response on chapter 20! I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it, and your comments made my soul smile 🥰 Also 2000 views!!! Unreal, thank you all so much 💖 I'm absolutely wrecked right now (hence why I haven't replied to any comments - I want to be able to give my whole alert attention to them🥰) but I promise tomorrow I'll do a double upload to celebrate 2000 hits🥳 Thanks again so so so much 💖

_Armin_

Once their minds were made up, Armin was amazed at how easy it was to prepare for the trip. Even though they had lived in that little hut for coming up to seven years, the amount of things they had to pack was startling meagre.

While he gave the itinerary one final review and Mikasa worked out the finances, Jean and Falco had headed into Frost again, this time to pick up supplies for the trip. Some bread, ham and cheese for a packed lunch tomorrow, and then whatever else they felt would keep on the walk.

Armin felt a rush of excitement. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. They were leaving. It had worked. It was actually worked. And leaving not just the hut, but leaving the island. He would finally get to see the sea again. See the world.

Jean and Falco prepared a dinner of salad, chicken and toast, and at around seven o’clock they sat around the table for the last time for some time. Mikasa was clearly going over the travel plan in her head, Jean was continuing on his surly attitude by chewing aggressively and glaring at anyone who looked his way, and Falco was busy cutting off the ends from his toast. Not the best send off in the world.

“Sorry your stay here is going to be cut so short.” Armin broke the silence, addressing Falco.

Falco shrugged good naturedly. “To be honest I’d probably be having to leave around now anyway. I can’t stay too long away from Cirila.” He blushed, and quickly added.

“I just mean she panics when she doesn’t see me everyday. Thinks I’ve been captured by those ‘island devils’.” He used finger quotes.

“So she demands to see Zeke, and then when _he_ doesn’t arrive either she becomes convinced _he’s_ been captured too and she tries to escape.”

“Has she ever managed to?”

Falco scoffed sadly. “Over one hundred meters underground? Not likely. No, she bites her hand and transforms and normally gets hurt trying to break down the door. And afterwards, half in punishment and half to weaken her, they don’t feed her for two or three days until she can barely move, let alone transform. And then as soon as she’s regained enough strength she transforms again to try and ‘save’ me, and the cycle repeats until she sees me.”

There was silence at the table as all the three of them looked away, each imagining the girl. Armin thought about what it had been like to transform, how even though he knew what was happening it was confusing and somewhat painful. He imagined trying to do that if his memories had been muddied by Bertolt’s. If he was no longer himself but neither was he Bertolt, and had become an amalgamation of two sets of thoughts and memories and emotions and wants.

“Is that why you flew back in such a rush?” Jean’s voice was low, and Falco shrugged again.

“Sort of. I didn’t even ask for the time away, I just decided one night. I felt like there was this great weight on me, and if I stayed even a day longer it would crush me.

He paused, scratching the back of head. “Truthfully I thought I was going mad. I was having visions, and these dreams and-“ He stopped himself, quickly moving on.

“But I knew for Cirila’s sake I could only be gone for around a week, and it seems like such such a wretched prospect to have to spend two or three of those days travelling. So even though it was risky, I decided to try and fly the distance.”

“Don’t worry though, I took the precautions. I walked out into the farming land behind the city where nobody would see the transformation, left in the middle of the night, arrived here just at dawn. I’m pretty sure nobody saw me. Not that it’s like illegal for me or anything to fly. Hell, the government would probably manage to spin it as this great, heroic adventure I was on for the people of Marley.” An unusually bitter tone had stained Falco’s voice.

“Will you fly back?” Armin asked.

Falco shook his head. “No, I’ll be leaving a day or two earlier than I had planned to anyway, so I’ll just use up that time travelling. I won't be able to travel far with you guys once we reach Marley; my destination is pretty much in the center of the city. Which thinking about, it's probably a good thing. Most people over there would know who I am, and if you’re trying to go around incognito, travelling around with me wouldn’t be a great idea.” He blushed at what he was insinuating, and opened his mouth to rush to explain himself, but Jean got in there first.

“Look at us, friends with a celebrity!” Jean nudged Falco, teasing a laugh out of him.

“Hold on, I’m currently sharing a room with the current, and youngest ever, Scout commander! I think I’m the admirer in this situation.” Falco had perked up and was diving back into his sandwich. Armin smiled at his words, trying to ignore the emotions they boiled up. A commander without influence.

“Um… Falco, I think you’re forgetting about me.” Jean placed a hand on his chest. “You know they know me _by name_ at the pastry shop now.”

“I think you’re also forgetting that the last known Ackermann is part of this conversation too.” Mikasa’s voice was as emotionless as usual and all three turned to look at her. She blinked, raising her head up.

“I’m just saying, if anyone is most likely to have bootlickers and sycophants, it’s me.”

Armin nodded his head slowly, a smile tugging on his lips. These days Mikasa rarely partook in their banter. It was nice to hear her joking again.

“Now see Falco, there’s your proof that Mikasa thinks _way_ too highly of herself. Imagine using a word like _sycophant_ and expecting everyone else to just know _know_ what it means.” Jean was leaned towards Falco, but Armin watched as his eyes flickered to Mikasa. Mikasa caught his gaze, and Armin noted how her lips twitched, fighting against the instinct to a share a smile with Jean.

“Unlike Mikasa, _Jean_ is a man of the people, Jean speaks to the common tongue of the people. He-“

“Does Jean also only refer to himself in third person?” Armin playfully put in.

“Well, I think highly of you all.” Falco got in there before Jean could continue his weird monologue of Jean praising. “I look up to you all. ”

Just as Jean went to ruffle Falco’s hair, Mikasa stood up. Armin looked up, surprised, and saw that whatever semblance of lightheartedness had vanished. Her expression was empty, startling devoid of emotion.

“We should get to bed. We need all our energy for tomorrow.” She spoke bluntly, and before anyone could speak she roughly began to gather the plates and cutlery.

Armin caught Jean’s eye across the table, and minutely shook his head when Jean raised an eyebrow.

_Jean this really isn’t the time for picking an argument._

For a moment Armin thought he would go ahead anyway, but then with a sigh, Jean stood. The sigh quickly lengthened to a hiss and he grabbed his side, but he waved off Falco’s attempt to help him.

“It’s nothing, just been sitting down too long.” Without looking at either Mikasa or Armin he left, and like a lost puppy Falco looked between Mikasa and Jean before following Jean.

Armin leaned back in his chair, saying nothing as he watched Mikasa roughly wash the dishes. _What's going on with you Mikasa?_ He longed to ask.

_What's going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh what was Falco saying before he cut himself off👀👀👀  
> Also lol I think I should clarify for some weird reason, spell and grammar check on my Word isn't working, so I have to rely on spellcheck on ao3. While this is great, it doesn't pick up on grammar mistakes. So I really apologise for any mistakes you might've seen in chapters, I try to catch them all but most of the time I upload these chapters right before going to bed and I'm very sleep so some get by me😅 Thank you so much for reading this far🥺💖


	22. Chapter Twenty two - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a part 1 of double upload! Ahhh! Thank you all so much for 2000 hits, I honestly cannot believe it 😭💖 thank you also for the kudos, comments and bookmarks; reading all your thoughts and feelings about a chapter honestly makes my day, and I love having the chats with you all! Again, thank you so much💖

_Mikasa_

They had planned to leave by dawn, but by the time Falco and Armin emerged downstairs Mikasa had been up for a few hours. On the best of days she slept lightly, but that night she’d been too excited to sleep more than a few hours. She kept imaging Eren, seeing him in her mind’s eye. It didn’t matter what he was doing, why he had left her and Armin behind. All that mattered was that he was alive.

She knew Jean and Falco couldn’t understand her optimism. Jean especially she knew thought she was being delusional. Mikasa couldn’t described it though. Somehow she just _knew_ Eren was out there, waiting.

And hadn’t he always talked about seeing the world, even as a child after seeing Armin’s book. He wanted to be _free,_ that’s why he had done everything he had done. What was more free than being alone in the jungle on an edge of a map?

And like dominoes, hope for Eren led to hope for Armin. Even if Eren no longer had the power to break Ymir’s curse, he should be able to tell them what they needed to do, where they should look.

In that fashion Mikasa’s thoughts chased each other, until at last she gave up on the search for sleep and got up. It was still dark outside her window, but she dressed quickly and gave her room one last tidy.

As she waited for the others to wake up, she brewed some tea as quietly as she could. She then made the sandwiches, and triple-checked everything was ready.

With nothing else to do, Mikasa did what she always did when she had free time. She went to Eren’s grave.

With the waning moonlight, she could just make out a few silvery shoots amongst the the earth. It was strange to think that when she returned each bulb would’ve sprouted, bloomed, blossomed and then withered away.

She gave them one last water, watching the drops instantly being absorbed by the earth. It had been so hot recently; she hoped it would rain for them.

Looking up, the stars were growing fainter as the sky lightened. It would be dawn soon.

Before she left, Mikasa placed a hand on the earth and closed her eyes. She whispered promises to herself, and to Eren, and then stood.

Falco and Armin were silently preparing the last of their oats, looking tired but alert. She didn’t have to ask to know Jean would only appear downstairs once they literally had one foot outside the door.

“It’s weird to think the place will be empty for six months.” Armin looked around the room with blurry eyes. “Did you already make the sandwiches?” He blinked towards counter, where three carefully wrapped packages were stacked.

Mikasa nodded. “I left the crusts for you though.”

Armin thanked her, blinking drowsily into his bowl.

When Falco ran upstairs to rouse Jean again, Mikasa decided to follow Armin out, watching him feed the geese. One time when Armin had been putting out the washing, he had seen a mass of white feathers next to the rushes. When he’d gone to investigate, he found a bloody wing laying in the grass. Beside it was a nest of goose eggs. When he had brought the nest in, cradling it like a sleeping child, both Mikasa and Jean had presumed they’d be having fried egg for dinner. The look of horror on Armin’s face when Jean went to grab the frying pan still made Mikasa smile.

Instead, he had set up a temporary heater on the kitchen table, carefully finding the correct heat setting for the eggs. When Mikasa had gone to into town for the week’s shop, he had demanded her to go to the local library and get as many, or if any, books on geese that they had.

After a week, the first crack appeared in an egg, and for the following three or so months, those geese became the center of Armin’s world. He’d get up multiple times in the night to feed them, would change their beddings daily. When they began moving, Mikasa and Jean would end up spending half the day just chasing them around the house. And the other half cleaning up after them.

It had only been when Jean, with a feather stick out from his hair and muck on his top, had threatened to spit and roast them for dinner did Armin finally relent and release them back into the wild. They hadn’t gone far though, and most mornings or evenings Armin would go out to feed them leftovers and crusts.

In the five years since, those few chicks had managed to establish an entire colony on the river behind their hut. They were near vicious to Jean and Mikasa, snapping and threatening to chase the two if they went near them. But to Armin they flocked, squawking and flapping, begging for food. Jean joked that Armin had successfully established the first poultry cult.

Like any other time, the geese eyed Mikasa threatening, but ignored her when they saw Armin. He tore chunks off the crust, throwing it in the air and watching them scramble for the crumbs. Beaks and wings and feathers.

When he turned back to her, he was wiping his hands on his trousers, purposely not looking at her. She pretended to ignore how blurry his eyes seemed.

“They’ll be fine for six months.” She said softly as he reached her, and he smiled self consciously.

She was unsure what to say next. She had never been good at comforting people. In the moment she tried to think what Jean would say if he was there.

“Trust me, I’d be more worried for the other wildlife around here. You should see how vicious they are to Jean and I when we do the washing. They’ll be like guard dogs around the house, waiting for you to get back.” Mikasa joked, unused to how her voice rose.

Armin met her gaze, managing a smile.

When they got back inside, Falco was examining his new haircut in the mirror. When he saw them, he jumped guiltily away, making Mikasa almost smile.

“I’ll go up for Jean, we really should be-“ Armin was interrupted by footsteps, and all three of them looked up at Jean as he descended.

Mikasa’s eyes widened as she took him in, and beside her Armin and Falco’s mouths literally _fell_ open.

He had cut his hair.

Jean had had a similar hairstyle for as long as Mikasa had known him. Sides cut close to the skin, while the top he allowed to grow out into a styled mop.

He had cut it. Cut _all_ of it.

His scowl increased when he noticed all of their gazes, and like a thunder personified he stomped to the kitchen to grab one of the sandwiches.

She couldn’t believe it. He just looked so different.

His hair was so short he almost looked bald. As he passed Mikasa, she could make out thin, discarded curls on his collar. He grabbed his bag, and when he turned to face them, Mikasa realised with a shock he had even shaved. He always had a little shadow of stubble, it must be close to ten years since he was last clean-faced. He looked like a different person.

“Well are we going or could I have had five extra minutes sleep?” Jean snapped, his demeanor so Jean-in-the-morning like he broke the illusion.

Wordlessly the others collected their lunches and bags and left. As Armin locked the door, he raised his eyebrow at Mikasa. She shrugged, looking back at Jean as he stalked ahead. She used to be so fluent in the language of his temperament that nothing he did could surprised her. Once so easily readable, his mind was fast becoming an unknown mystery to her, his moods as sudden and strong as storms.


	23. Chapter Twenty three - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say angst?👀👀👀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for over 2000 hits! Absolutely unreal💖💖💖

_Jean_

It took until the sun was nearly overhead until it finally burned away his bad mood like a morning mist. They had been walking for around two hours, and should be at the docks in another four. Although it felt like a trek, Jean knew they were lucky. The region of Shiganshina was the closest town to the dock. If they happened to live in the northern areas like Utopia and Orvud they’d have to go right past the three walls and through multiple towns. At least this route they wouldn’t past anyone until they were reaching the docks.

Up ahead, Mikasa was leading the way, and between him and her Falco and Armin were in deep talks. Jean had taken the rear, happy to be left alone to strew in his foul mood for the first few hours.

Jean yawned and went to run a hand through his hand. His scowl returned as all he felt was rough bristles. He couldn’t remember ever having hair this short. It was weird, unnatural.

And he missed his stubble too. He rubbed his jaw. It felt so odd, so bare. He’d nicked himself too, and had been reminded of the reason why he had stopped shaving in the first place. He hoped Falco wouldn’t noticed the cut after all Jean’s teasing of him.

He wished he hadn't had to cut it. His hair and beard felt as much a part of him as his personality did. Who even was he without his thick hair, without the shadow of stubble? His poor hair and beard - precious sacrifices for disguise. 

He looked up as he heard Armin shout for Mikasa. Him and Falco had set up by a tree, and while Falco was unpacking his lunch Armin was gesturing for Mikasa to come back.

When Jean reached them, he could tell Falco was eyeing him, obviously trying to gauge if his mood had improved. He smiled wearily. “Don’t worry, I no longer have the personality of a hungover titan.”

“I don’t think it’s your personality he’s focused on.” Armin murmured as he bit into his sandwich.

“Oh yeah.” Jean once more ran a hand over his new buzzcut. “I keep forgetting.”

“You look so different.” Falco said, something near awe in his voice, and Jean snorted.

“Although, is that a shaving cut?” Falco said slyly, laughing as Jean pretending to try and hit him.

“Foolish child, tis but a freckle.”

Falco opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Mikasa’s approach. “If we stay here for half an hour tops we should make the afternoon ferry.”

Jean could feel her gaze on him, but he purposely focused on his meal instead.

He was trying to move on, but he was still pretty pissed at the two of them. They were so damn desperate; touched-starved of Eren that they’d do anything. Believe anything.

He had lost friends too. He missed Connie and Sasha nearly every damn day. And if Eren hadn’t gone off the rails, choosing himself over everyone else, then they’d still be alive.

He stole a glance at Mikasa who was nibbling at her food. Of course Mikasa would believe it, she still called out for Eren in her dreams. But still. It had been eight years. Eren was dead. She was alive.

Jean felt a flush of anger.

He had moved on from his love, why couldn’t she.

He looked at Armin then as he took another bite. He knew Mikasa _should_ know better, but he knew for damn sure that Armin _did_ know better. What was he doing? Going along with all this.

Maybe it was desperate hope for himself. That Eren could break Ymir’s Curse. Which _even if_ Eren was there, _even if_ they found him, there was no indication that Eren would know how to do anything with Ymir’s Curse. Which –

“Actually that’s a point-“ Jean spoke aloud, swallowing a mouthful. “Let’s go ahead and accept that the world is flat and that I’m actually secretly Sasha in disguised and it was Eren who went through that village, right? That was, what Falco, seven years ago? Eren would have died from Ymir’s Curse long before we arrive.”

Although the thought stumped Armin, it was clear Mikasa had already considered it. Of course she had.

"Eren did things –“

Jean rolled his eyes. “Yes yes he did things nobody else has done, and we can’t possibly know the limits of his powers.

Anger flashed in Mikasa’s eyes. “If he could resurrect thousands of colossal titans, I think extending a curse is within his abilities, wouldn’t you say?”

“But that’s the point!” Anger had given way to exasperation, and Jean felt like he was pleading with them. “We all _knew_ he had the power to do that! Yes it was insane, but it wasn’t like we had no idea about it! We _knew_ about it! Where’s the myths of the Founding Titan breaking Ymir’s Curse?”

When she paused to consider his words, Jean imagined he saw a chink appearing in her resolution, and jumped at it.

“Listen, it’s not too late. We can just turn around and head back and –“ From the way her eyes flared he quickly realised it had been the wrong thing to say.

“And what, just _give up_ on Eren? We –“

“HE GAVE UP ON US FIRST!!” Jean hadn’t meant to shout, but he was just so damn tired of this love-sick adoration. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Or are you just forgetting about –“

“You’re not the only one who loved Sasha and Connie! And Captain Levi and Hange and Commander Erwin! I haven’t _forgotten –_ none of us have! You think I don’t wake up and cry for them, for them all? You don’t get to gatekeep grief Jean! Don’t just get to decide who feels pain!” Mikasa stood, her fists clenched.

“I’m not deciding anything!” Jean narrowed his eyes, pulling himself up. “I’m just saying maybe we shouldn’t go running to the middle of _nowhere, wasting_ half of the remainder of Armin’s life, on some half heard myth that you’ve filled in the gaps with what you wanted to believe!”

“Why are you-?!”

“And anyway!” Jean was fully revved up now, no backing down. “Even if Eren is out there, _he’s not worth this!_ He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve our energy. He doesn’t even deserve our thoughts! Through his actions _he_ killed them all! Sasha and Connie and Levi and Hange and Erwin and Annie and Reiner and Porco! It's because of him that they're all dead, and now we're dropping everything to ' _rescue'_ him! He damn killed them and you know it! I hope wherever he is, dead or alive, I hope he _fucking_ _rots!”_ Jean’s voice echoed across the plain, and he took some shuddering breaths.

Mikasa just stared at him, as if stunned by his declaration. She then twisted, grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder and began walking.

Jean released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and allowed himself to lean against the tree. He bent his legs, his back sliding down against the bark until he was back on the ground.

Falco was picking at some grass, apparently pretending he hadn’t heard or seen a thing. Jean looked at Armin, who was watching him with somber eyes.

“Sorry.”

Armin didn’t say anything to him for a beat. “I still think we should go. Even if Eren is gone, he may have left a book or something. Even if it could act as a pointer for our research. It might be too late for me, but you could still help Falco.” Armin spoke gently, and Jean smiled.

“For someone with such an innocent look, you can be quite manipulative, can’t you?” He wasn’t angry, and was almost teasing Armin.

Armin smiled wearily, and began to pack up his stuff. “Well, if nothing else, that explosion was coming sooner or later. I’m glad you guys managed to get it out in an empty field. No prying eyes or open ears.”

He shrugged his bag over his shoulder, and began to follow Mikasa.

Jean watched him for a moment, and then sighed and stood. “Sorry Falco. I always kind of imagine it must feel like overhearing your parents argue when we get into fights.” He leaned over and offered a hand to Falco.

Falco took it and stood, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You know I don’t want to feel like a burden right? You don’t have to –“

“Oh shush!” Jean threw an arm around Falco. “I thought you knew me well enough at this stage! You know I don’t do a single thing that doesn’t benefit me and only me.”

Falco chuckled. “Yeah, sorry momentarily forgot that. Also wow, I keep forgetting about the hair and beard and all and keep surprising myself when I look at you.”

“I know.” For what most have been a hundredth time that morning, Jean mournfully ran a hand over his buzzcut. “Don’t remind me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falco, in corner, just tryna enjoy his meal (part 2) 🧍🥪🌿


	24. Chapter Twenty four - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aw wow thank you so much for all the responses on the last two or three chapters! I'm so happy that the plot is speeding up, and I love love love reading all your views and comments on the developments 🥰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So around 30 minutes after I first uploaded the last chapter yesterday I edited it and got rid of some info on the reasoning behind Jean cutting his hair. If you were one of those speedy few who read the chapter before I edited it and are reading this chapter thinking a chunk of information is sure sounding might familiar, haha my apologies!

_Armin_

Probably because it was Mikasa leading them and she was stalking ahead like nobody’s business, but they made good time, and arrived at the docks with plenty of time to buy tickets.

As they got closer and the hue of civilization began to touch their surroundings, Armin began to get nervous. It had been so long since he had been on a paved road, seen a modern building. Even just seen people that he _didn’t_ live with. It was almost staggering, dizzying.

But at the back of his mind Armin was hyperaware of it all. He was breaking the law by being this close to people; to towns and civilization. He knew what would happen if they were caught - he’d be arrested on charges relating to planning another mass killing. They wouldn’t bother locking him up, would simple end his life a year earlier than planned. He knew how precarious a position Falco was in because he was in the exact same one. Knowing the government was fervently waiting for a slip up, some reason they could use to feed you to one of their lackeys. The only thing that had kept both Falco and him alive up to this point was the fact they were considered ‘war heroes’.

And that was another thing. Armin was all but thought of as a war criminal in Marley. If they were caught there, all of them (with perhaps the exception of Falco) would be executed immediately. He couldn’t fight the image that always returned to him. The devastated he’s caused. The ruin. The death.

As the street widened and up ahead people in both uniform and casuals milled, he got more nervous. He knew he had to be the one to buy the tickets. If any of the others did it, they could easily be charged with assisting a crime. As it was, he could just plead he had forced them to come this far along with him.

Armin ducked into an alleyway, followed by the others.

“Right, hoods up okay? We’re reaching the actual docks now. Let me do the talking and –“

“Hold up,” Jean leaned forward, his eyes wide. “You aren’t seriously planning on being the face of this operations, are you?”

He could see Mikasa bristle at Jean’s interruption. Knowing them both as well as he did, he doubted either would be talking to each other for a good while. Both Jean and Mikasa had a penchant for remembering arguments and keeping grudges.

“Well, yes. It’s too dangerous for you guys.”

“Armin give me the money.” Jean demanded in a hushed voice.

“What?”

“What do you mean ' _w_ _hat'_?! Armin I thought you were meant to the brains of the group? I’m the only one here who can go and buy tickets with even a hope of getting away with it.”

When nobody spoke, Jean continued. “I mean, by Falco’s own mouth he’s all but a celebrity to Marleyans, and instantly recognisable. Mikasa remains one of the only people of Asian heritage on the island, and is fairly recognisable too. And Armin, forgive me for bringing this up, but you’re a doubly recognisable. I doubt the Marleyans have forgotten the face of the man who singlehanded blew up their navy, and I doubt the Eldians have forgotten the current face of Scout Leadership. Me? Nobody remembers me. And even if they vaguely remember some guy called Jean who was part of the alliance – hello?” He waved a hand in front of his face. “I no longer look like that devilishly handsome man.”

Armin bit his lip. He did make a very compelling argument. But if he was caught then –

“Okay.” As he handed the bag of money, he could hear Mikasa’s sharp exhale of breath. He knew that in her heart she understood that Jean was right, and that was why she was extra mad.

The three of them peaked out from the shadows as Jean walked away. Armin had to give it to him, he strolled as if he had not a worry in the world. When he reached the ticket booth he even whipped off his hood to smile at the merchant.

They chatted for awhile, and even after Jean had handed over the coins and received the four slips of paper, he stayed, learning against the counter.

After what seemed like eternity, Jean finally laughed one last time, waved in gratitude, and walked away from the merchant. When he neared them, he widen his eyes and gesturing for them to get back.

“Try to act any more suspicious would you.” He muttered, whatever charm he’d shown to the merchant long gone. He handed out the tickets, and Armin rotated his to see what it said.

“But this is in five hours.” Mikasa got in there first.

Jean shrugged. “Apparently the afternoon fully is already book. The guy told me I was lucky to even get seats on this one.”

Armin brushed the ticket against his lips as he thought. “I had no idea there was so much business between the two lands.”

“I was thinking more about the fact I could’ve had five extra hours in bed to be honest.”

“And how annoying it’s going to be to stay out of sight for five hours.” Mikasa muttered, and Armin was glad that she seemed to have temporary forgotten to be mad at Jean at that very moment. A truce in the face of a greater problem.

“We could walk back the way we came and wait away from here for awhile?” Falco offered up.

Jean shook his head. “No, I think that would look suspicious. Why would four people walk into busy dock, buy tickets, then walk away to go sit in a field.”

“Better to look suspicious than be dead.” Mikasa snapped. Oh well, looked like that truce lasted a full minute.

Jean narrowed his eyes at her, but resisted retaliation. “I think we should just go and find a seat by the ocean. Or even go on the beach. I can’t imagine anyone would pay us much attention.”

Armin tried not to let the call of the ocean sway his judgement. He tried to think what Commander Erwin would do, but couldn’t really concrete because after Jean mentioned it all he could think about was seeing the sea again. After seven years.

“Jean’s right. Pretending we don’t have anything to hide is the easiest way to stay out of suspicion. We’ll go to the beach, find a place hidden away, and wait.”

Mikasa’s mouth narrowed, but that was the only sign that she didn’t agree with him. Jean and Falco nodded. Armin tried not to, but he couldn’t stop the excitement which bubbled up in his chest. He hadn’t really fully realised how close to the ocean he was until Jean mentioned. How many times had he woken up with the sounds of waves in his ears?

“Let’s go!” He whispered, unable to stop the smile.

He was going to see the ocean again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My manga volumes finally arrived! I ordered volumes 29, 30 and 32 (31 was sadly out of stock 😭) I ordered from the Book Depository and they honestly took nearly a month to arrive but hey! They're here! Very excited to actually have the physical copies to read 🥰  
> Also Armin finally gets reunited with the ocean next chapter 🌊💙


	25. Chapter Twenty five - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family fun at the beach

_Mikasa_

Mikasa managed to find an area of shade on the beach, and hunkered down there for the hours. It was still blazing hot, and she knew from experience that her skin would burn and blister if she stayed out in the sunshine as the others did.

The three men had left her by the shore and gone paddling, their trousers rolled up. Jean had been the first of them to retreat back to the sand, where he was currently lying flat out, asleep with his arm stretched across his face. If Mikasa had been in a forgiving mood, she would’ve woken him and made him sleep in some shade instead. But she had ignored her conscious, knowing full well he would ignore her anyway.

Falco and Armin had stayed longer, maybe for an hour or two, wadding through the shallows trying to follow shoals of small fish. Eventually Falco had given up, and was sitting near enough to Mikasa finishing off an apple.

Only Armin stayed in the sea. After wading up and down for another hour, he had gone to sit on a rock half submerged. Mikasa watched him as his legs dangled in the gentle waters, pulled and pushed by small waves. He was looking out towards the horizon, where the brilliant blues of the sky and sea kissed.

Mikasa felt out of sorts with her three companions; where they seemed relaxed and resting, Mikasa could hardly sit still. She was too paranoid, too nervous, too excited. She began to nibble at her fingernails, a habit she’d managed to kick a few years ago but which seemed to be making a comeback.

She watched as the afternoon ferry left. Just like Jean said it would be, it was bustling. She was mildly surprised to see though there was a mix of soldiers and civilians. She had assumed that only government officials and soldiers would be going to Marley. She supposed one of the side effects of living in the middle of nowhere was that you had little knowledge of the happens of the wider world. The governments must be attempting to establish tourism between the two states.

The minutes seemed to stretch by, and Mikasa continuously checked her watch in the hope it would be time to leave. She couldn’t describe why, but there was something that unsettled her about the beach. Perhaps it was the fact they were in such clear view for anyone to see, but Mikasa thought it went deeper than that. Her heart had mazes and paths, and she tried to rarely venture down them. She didn’t like analysing her moods, or working out the source of her feelings. She didn’t really need to anyway, nearly all of the paths of heart led back to the same thing, the same person.

After what seemed like an eternity of fanning herself with a map and looking at her watch, it was time to go. She decided to designate Falco the task of waking Jean up, and went to get Armin.

He hadn’t moved for around two hours, and Mikasa stood on the last patch of dry sand for a moment, watching him. The current gently pulled and pushed his legs, and the water was so clear she could see their distorted outline, like two pale fish.

She called for him, and he started, turning to see her.

“It’s time to go. Come on, your legs must be freezing.”

He nodded to acknowledge he’d heard her, and slowly slipped off the rock, wading towards her. She felt a deep pull of melancholy from him, as if he had just said goodbye to an old friend. She didn’t want to dwell on his mood, and went over to kick some sand over Jean, who was valiantly doing his best to ignore Falco.

He lifted his arm just enough to see it was her, and the two shared a glare before Mikasa moved on. 

“Come on, I’m not missing this ferry too.”

***

Considering the fact the afternoon ferry had been full, Mikasa couldn’t believe the evening ferry was equally as packed. She could tell all four of them felt vulnerable, just standing around on a bustling deck. She resisted the urge to put her hood up, knowing it would only gain them more attention.

Instead, the four of them slipped through the crowd until they found the metal stairs leading down to the lower deck. Falco wondered aloud why this one was so empty, especially considering the view was almost better than the deck above.

While the others watched the island retreat into the horizon. Mikasa kept her back against the ship’s wall with her eyes closed. She breathed deeply, trying to ignore the sound of foam breaking and the sway of the boat.

It wasn’t working. Even the air reminded of her of the salty sea that surrounded her. Oh Christ she was in the middle of an ocean with nothing separating her from a vast body of water expect expect a few boards of wood.

“This is gonna be a big one.” Falco had said with hushed anticipation, and Mikasa didn’t have time to grab the handle before the boat was tipping upwards and upwards and –

It crashed down against the water, all four of them getting drenched. Mikasa forced her eyes open, wiping her sleeve across her face.

“You wouldn’t think the waves would be so big – the sea seemed so gentle when we were at the beach.” Armin commented as if he was just talking about the weather (which she supposed objectively he was), not the fact that this boat was like a cork stopper bobbing about in a storm.

“Ooooh get ready this one’s gonna be –“ Falco’s excited announcement was cut short by the ferry lurching to the side, and then righting as another wave drenched them. No wonder this deck of the boat was so empty.

“Mikasa… you’re looking a bit pale there.” Jean said almost cheerfully, and Mikasa gave him a withering look.

“I’m –“

Whatever assurance of her state of being was about to be made was cut short by the boat swaying again to the side. Only this time Mikasa’s stomach joined in.

She only just made it to the railing before her lunch came over. She was vaguely aware of someone shouting a warning, but it was too late. As she retched, another wave crested above her, breaking as she looked up.

She walked back to the three others, her hair hanging around her shoulders like rats tails and her clothes thoroughly soaked. She looked at each one individually, daring them to make some comment.

Only Jean met her gaze, his lips upturned into a smirk that he tried to hide. Christ he was annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And they've officially left the island! Step 1 of the adventure is well under way 🥳


	26. Chapter Twenty six - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Looking suspiciously at all the characters* ... Hmmm.... Who hasn't had a breakdown yet? Whose turn is it for the angst now?🤔👀👀

_Armin_

Armin could tell the others sensed something was up with him. The closer the boat moved (or perhaps _rocked_ would be a more appropriate verb) to Marley the quieter he got, until he was barely listening to Jean and Falco's banter interspersed with Mikasa’s swearing.

The docks. He hadn’t seen the area since…

Armin squeezed shut his eyes, gripping the railing.

He half wished the boat trip would last for hours, _days_ , but far too quickly the waves grew gentler, and a brown haze appeared on the horizon.

Marley.

As they got closer, Armin’s eyes took in the rebuilt dock, once more swarming with life. Jetties jutted from the wharf, packed with an array of boats, from small fishing rowboats to great military ships. He could see people too, too far away to be other than figures moving. But people. Life.

His mouth went dry as the boat got closer, until finally it landed against a free space on a jetty with a bump. Above them, they could hear the other passengers begin to descend, giving pitiful glances to the drenched four.

“Armin.” With a start Armin realised he had zoned out. The other three had walked away, but paused, noting Armin hadn’t moved from the railing.

“Sorry.” Armin’s voice was hoarse, and he forced his legs forward. He couldn’t even remember how to walk probably, how _not_ to look as if he was guilty as hell. As if he didn’t have the blood of thousands on his hands.

He could tell from the way they looked at him that Mikasa and Jean had figured out the reason for his behaviour. Jean gave him a thin, reassuring smile while Mikasa moved closer to him, her hand reaching down to grip his wrist.

Her fingers were cold, clamming from the sea water, and Armin looked down at them. So pale and delicate. Looking deceitfully easy to break, but their grip told a different story.

“Come on Armin, we need to go up the gangplank.” Mikasa’s voice was soft but urgent, and Armin realised he had stopped walking again. The steady stream of passengers disembarking was thinning, and the group were beginning to get some looks.

“Sorry sorry.” Armin stared down, focusing on putting one step ahead the other. He gripped the railing, but didn’t look up when the metal rail ran out and his foot touched on solid ground.

Truthfully, he was only vaguely aware of the others. All he was aware was Mikasa’s grip on his wrist, anchoring him to her, to the present.

At the end of the dwarf guards were stopping passengers, and Armin and Falco were instructed by Mikasa to put up their hoods. Armin wasn’t even aware of the man’s questions, nor Jean’s charismatic answers. He was looking down, at the man’s shoes. Boots, polished and reflecting the sun.

Then they were walking again, and there was people everywhere. Like there had been on that evening too.

Armin took a shuddering breath, trying to simply focus on Mikasa’s hand, the reassuring coolness her palm gave off against his clammy skin.

After seven years of living in near isolation, Armin was overwhelmed. The noise, the people, the smells, the talking and shouting and running and walking. It was too much. There was so much _life._ And he had not only aliened himself from it all, but he had _stolen_ it. He had destroyed this place, massacred the entire region. Boats and children and cats and mother and –

Suddenly he was pushed against a wall, and he gasped for air as if he was drowning. He deserved to drown. He needed them to know who he was – what he had done, he needed to let them know, he needed to –

He opened his mouth to scream, but suddenly he was embraced, his voice muffled as his head was pushed into the crook of a shoulder, a heartbeat pumping against his own chest.

Mikasa.

He breathed her in, his body relaxing as her familiarity invaded his senses. He could hear whispering around him, but tuned it all out. Tuned out everything. The wetness of his clothes and the birds singing above and feel of his nails digging into his palm. All of it.

There was just him, and he breathed deeply, allowing himself to expand and refill his body. And then there was Mikasa, who was rubbing his back in slow circles. And then there was Jean, and Falco, and then a wall on a street, and then a dockyard, and then a city and then Marley.

Armin pushed away from Mikasa, and she instantly dropped her hands. He looked from her to Jean and then back to her again. For once they seemed to agree on their facial expressions, and both looked extremely worried.

“Armin, are you okay?” Jean slowly leaned over and squeezed his arm.

Armin felt himself blushing. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t – don’t know. It just-“ He struggled, trying to put into words what he’d felt.

“It’s okay.” Mikasa murmured softly. “We get it.”

Armin looked up and noticed for the first time they were standing down an alleyway, Falco a little further up keeping guard.

“We should – we should get going. It looks suspicious staying here much longer.” Armin tried to keep the shake from his voice. He could feel his face was wet, and dragged an already damp sleeve across his eyes. He looked up just in time to catch the concerned look Mikasa and Jean gave each other. It almost made him smile, it took him having a mental breakdown but they were finally seeing eye-to-eye.

“I’m promised I’m better now. I don’t know what- But it’s over now.” Armin looked at them each, and then Mikasa nodded.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As they caught up with Falco, Armin felt shame creep him. What had happened to him? Commander Erwin wouldn’t have broken down like that, he wouldn’t have put his friends and comrades in danger like Armin had. He had almost shouted. Armin shivered, thinking about it. They were no longer protected as heroes in Paradis. He dreaded to think what would’ve happened to Jean and Mikasa and even Falco if they’d been caught.

They walked silently down the street, aiming to get away from the docks before they discussed the next step of the plan. Armin stared down at the path, noting that even though it was only seven years old it was already looked worn and old.

What had just happened to him? It felt like the world had internally collapsed on him, like everything was suddenly _too much._ His mind had always been his strength, the one thing he could rely on when his body failed. Could he even still –

Armin’s lamenting was cut short by Jean swinging an arm around his shoulders, drawing him near.

“Armin, think of it this way. No matter what just happened there, you can take pride in the fact you didn’t throw up your lunch just from some little swells.” Jean stage whispered to Armin, drawing a tired smile, but a smile nevertheless from Armin.

Mikasa turned around, an eyebrow raised challengingly. “At least I didn’t get burnt to a crisp by falling asleep on the beach.”

She turned back to face ahead as Jean straighten. “Hey! What are you talking about? I didn’t get burned at all! Look!” He thrusted his arm towards Mikasa, even though she now had her back to him. “I haven’t even tan one bit.”


	27. Chapter Twenty seven - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, I loved digging in, expanding and exploring Jean's opinion on Armin and Eren and his own actions in the war. Squint carefully and there's even a lil Jeankasa thrown in 😊👀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another lil note that I edited chapter 23 half an hour after I uploaded it, so if you're reading this and parts seem repetitive, I swear it's not I just forgot to edit chap 23 before uploading it because I'm a fool😅

_Jean_

Jean cursed, scratching his arm, as if trying to rid himself of the sun’s leftover heat. His skin was already reddening, blisters forming under the surface. He could feel Mikasa watch him coolly, and internally cursed that she had been right once more.

They had tried to walk a bit further into Marley, but both he and Mikasa had come to the same conclusion - Armin needed to rest before they went any further. Falco had led them to a memorial park which was outside the center of Marley, and filled with benches hidden away in green. Both he and Mikasa had chosen to ignore the name and clear nature of the park, and had gratefully entered. The group found a little corner hidden from the path and surrounded by bushes, and had hunkered down.

Mikasa had wordlessly handed Jean some coins and he happily wandered off to buy some food. Although it had not been a pleasant experience to shave and cut most of his hair off, he was glad he had done it. He had woken up that morning from a nightmare where he had been recognised at the port, and without thinking he’d reached for the scissors.

He was already the least memorable of the four, and now with his new style he was virtually unrecognisable. Enjoying this sense of anonymity, Jean strolled further towards the center of Marley, exchanging the coins for some Marleyan currency and then allowing his nose to guide him.

Even though evening was fast approaching, Marley was still bustling. Children running messages sped past him, weaving through the crowd like the wind. Shops lined the street, merchants calling out and advertising their wears. The crowd undulated and swelled, streams of people walking to and from work, and much like on the ferry, Jean felt like he was merely a passenger, allowing himself to be steered and guided by the the crowd's currents.

He eventually realised that the others would be getting worried, and with a sigh forced himself to take back control of his direction. He managed to push his way to the edge of the streams of people, right to the front of a kebab stall. He ordered the cheapest thing on the menu that still had meat in, and was served four mysterious steaming bags. Paying, he began the much more arduous task of going against the crowd’s movement and making his way back to the park. As he walked, his mind turned to Armin

It didn’t take a genius to work out why Armin had reacted the way he had. He had completely levelled the area less than seven years ago. Jean screwed up his face. For better or for worse Jean had made peace with what he had done in the name of war. He hoped he had always retained an essence of humanity, of remembering that it was not civilians of Marley who were to blame for the waves of titans that had massacred his people.

But whether he had succeeded or failed at that, it didn’t matter. What had been done was done and he had long made peace with his actions.

He knew Armin never would. He had basically eradicated a community, thousands of families wiped out with a single drop of his blood. It didn’t mattered that Eren’s Rumbling would’ve done it a few months later anyway. Armin had still erased an entire region of the city; destroying it all.

Jean sighed as he slipped past a groups of kids that nearly collided with him. There was no argument, no defense. Armin was the villain of this story.

But he was also somehow a victim, cursed to live when so many had died. Eaten away with guilt. It made Jean’s head hurt if he thought about it too long, and so he simplified it. Down to one cause. Or rather one person.

Eren.

Eren forced their hand, Eren jumped and just assumed the Scouts would trample over everything to catch him.

And he had been right.

Eren forced them to come and rescue him, forced Jean to command squads to bomb the city, forced Armin to transform into the Colossal Titan to protect them, forced them on that damn airship and forced into the children of Marley hatred in their hearts and guns in their hands.

Jean briefly squeezed his eyes shut. What’s done was done long ago.

***

The mystery food turned out to be a fried pastry filled with some sort of cured meat. Considering it’s price, it was delicious, and Jean ate it so quickly his tongue became the latest in the list of body areas he’d burned that day. Even Armin managed to eat most of it, and by the time he was crumpling up the brown bag he was looking a lot less pale.

Darkness had descended, and the warmth of the day was slowly easing.

“I think we should stay here for the night.” Even before Jean had finished speaking Mikasa was shaking her head.

“No.” Her answer was as brief as it was assured.

Jean looked at her, blinking. “You want to expand on that or-?”

“Well, I thought the reasons were pretty obvious,” she said sharply. “Three of us are not exactly welcomed here, and the other is instantly recognisable. I would argue that sleeping in the middle of a city which wishes us dead isn’t the greatest idea. Plus, the darkness if the perfect cover to slip through the city.”

Jean bit his tongue, his brow furrowed. She made a good argument. His face relaxed in defeat and he shrugged.

“Fair point, we’ll keep walking.”

He could see she had been gearing up for another fight, and had been unprepared for his answer.

“Oh okay.” She blinked, flustered at his compliance. “I need to change first though. I’m still soaked.”

“Well hurry, we should go soon.” Jean added, because he felt like he needed to make up after being so agreeable to Mikasa.

He could hear from the way she breathed out she was biting her tongue from saying something back, and Jean allowed himself a quick smirk,

When Mikasa went behind some thick foliage behind them, Jean asked Falco to compare his skin tone.

“Truthfully it’s looking grey. Everything's grey and black. Because it’s night.” Falco said, utterly deadpan, and Jean sighed.

“Well, is it a darker grey than usual? It feels hot.”

“You were out in the sun for quite a few hours.” Armin murmured, the first thing he’d say since his panic attack.

As Mikasa returned, Jean examined his arm with a frown. He didn’t care too much about the burn, he just didn’t want Mikasa to be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for the response of the chapters out so far! Makes me so happy, and I love reading your comments and having the chats with ye 🥰


	28. Chapter Twenty eight - Armin

_Armin_

They moved quickly through the city, skirting streets lined with bustling pubs and sticking to the shadows. Perhaps more mental exhaustion than physical, but Armin felt so tired he could drop down in the street and sleep. It was only the others pushing on that forced him forwards.

The night was surprisingly warm, and had retained an essence of the day’s heat. Although Armin didn’t get completely soaked like Mikasa, his clothes still retained a dampness to them. Luckily they were quickly drying, a combination of his movements as well as the evening's warmth.

It helped massively that it was also a clear night, and the moon shone down, no clouds to impede it’s brilliance. The group had their hoods up, and using the moon’s light Falco was able to lead them with ease through the city.

After perhaps an hour and a half of walking, he slowed down, looking left and right before stopping completely. Armin started, taking in his surroundings. He had been too exhausted to even look up from the road below him, and realised they were in a different area of the city. Even in half lit darkness Armin could tell this place was impoverished; cracks broke up the pavement and rubbish littered around building bases. Armin raised his gaze. The buildings themselves dilapidated, most of them already collapsed.

“What is this place?” Jean murmured softly, and Falco took a moment before he answered him.

“It’s a portion of the Elyian quarters. The old quarters anyway. After… everything, they rebuilt most of the area, but decided to leave a few square miles in it’s destroyed condition.”

“Why?” Mikasa’s voice was soft.

“Because although you guys did end up saving them in the end from Eren’s Rumbling, they weren’t all that eager to forgive and forget everything that happened before that. The attack on Willy Tyber, the loss of the War Hammer, the bombing of civilians and soldiers alike.” Falco carefully spoke in a manner devoid of emotion. Of course, this had been his home he had to watch get bomb, his friends he’d seen killed. By them. By the people he was surrounded by.

While Mikasa looked away, Armin watched as Jean resolutely took it in, forcing himself to look. Armin wondered briefly did Falco know the man he idolised had been the commanding officer for the ground attack, and then decided he must do.

Just like what Armin had done, Jean had carried out his orders, commanding his unit to do what had to be done. With a start Armin realised that this place was Jean’s dock; this was where he had to face the lives he took.

“Let’s go.” Mikasa went to move, but Falco stayed, staring at the desolated streets.

“Falco?” Jean asked quietly, and Armin heard the hint of fear in his voice, the intoned questions he allowed hang off Falco’s name.

“I have to leave you now.” Falco spoke slowly, looking away, and for one terrible moment Armin thought it was a trap, a set up. That Falco had led them all here to be caught and tried for war crimes. He backed away a few steps and evidently Mikasa had the exact same notion. In a flash her hand had gone to her back, ready to retrieve the knife Armin knew she’d tucked into her waistband when she had changed earlier.

Only Jean remained where he was, confusion, rather than suspicion, written across his face.

“Falco?”

Falco raised a finger, pointing up the darkened street. “Don’t tell anyone, but that’s where they keeping Cirila. A set of underground chambers built to control titan shifters exactly beneath the spot where Willy Tybur gave his last performance. Poetic, isn’t it?” Falco looked back at them, instantly noticing the distrust on Armin’s face and the knife in Mikasa’s hand.

His eyes widened, piecing it together. “You – You guys really think I brought you here to-? I’d betray you? I’m not angry with what happened here, both sides did terrible things in the name of war and prosperity. I wouldn’t… I would never betray you.” There was hurt in his voice, and as Armin looked away Mikasa lowered her knife.

Behind him, Jean was watching them, clearly too shocked to be furious. Armin knew the anger wasn’t abated though - it would only grow.

“Of course.” Mikasa murmured softly, and Armin forced himself to offer a thin smile as an apology.

“I need to go now, and you guys should aim to be out of the city before dawn. If you just follow this street,” Falco tapped his foot against the pavement, “you’ll come to an intersection with an inn on, turn left and that should bring you to the outskirts of the city. After that, continue in that direction but make sure to be alert. The police sometimes patrol the border of the city. Once you reach fields, you know you’re in the clear.”

With nothing else to be done, they said their goodbyes. Mikasa gave Falco a brief hug, whispering an apology in his ear which he accepted with a smile.

When he moved onto Armin, Armin embraced him too, his head next to Falco’s. He was always surprised to be reminded that Falco was now half an inch taller than him.

“Remember what I told you?” They pulled away, but Armin kept one hand on his shoulder. “Our talk on the way here, I meant it.” He knew the others were listening, so tried to keep it as vague as possible while making sure Falco understood. Falco nodded, his eyes not quite meeting Armin’s. “Falco, just remember that everything doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it does, alright? Sometimes dreams are just that, dreams.”

Falco nodded, and then moved onto Jean, who immediately pulled him into a hug.

“You’ll write?”

Falco laughed, pulling away. “To what address exactly?”

Jean opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Okay we’ll write to you then.”

“You know that’s not a good idea, they read my mail here.”

“Oh _fine_ then, I see how it is moody teenager, trying to avoid contact with us old folks.” Jean joked, and pulled him back into another quick hug. “Just… stay safe okay? And as soon as we’re back you better visit us okay? I can only go so many months with just these two for company before I go mad.”

Falco smiled, taking a few steps back. “I will, I promise. Good luck! And remember what I told you! Buy a translation book as soon as you cross over the border – you’ll need it!”

The three promised they would, and began to head towards the way he had directed them.

Armin looked behind one last time, at the young man who smiled and waved, standing along in a sea of rubble.

Armin gave a wave back. He couldn’t help but feel they were abandoning Falco, leaving him in a forest full of titans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falco nooo come back :'(


	29. Chapter Twenty nine - Mikasa

_Mikasa_

Mikasa tried to judge how far they could walk before the other two near collapsed. She wanted to at least get past where Falco said the police patrolled before they stopped for a break. She doubted they’d be able to get that far though; she could tell from the way Armin was heavy breathing that he was exhausted, and from Jean’s soft hisses his ribs were aching. She wondered who would give out first.

She halted by a crossroads, recognising the inn Falco mentioned. She felt a brief rush of relief that at least they had made it this far, and she looked both ways for any stragglers before they continued. Still though, she was hyperaware that had made startling bad time. The sky was already lightening up and they had only reached the outskirts of the city. They should -

“Wait.” Jean gasped, “I need to- need to stop for a minute.” Without waiting for agreement, he leaned back against a wall, his hand pressing against his side.

His face contorted with pain for a moment. He seemed to lean over and for a moment Mikasa thought he was going to collapse, but then he straightened, hissing between his teeth.

Wordlessly Armin dropped down beside him, resting his head between his knees as he tried to muster up some more energy. Mikasa looked up the street again, biting her lip.

“Okay, five minutes.”

Jean nodded without looking at her, and then muttered to himself he needed some painkillers. He bent down to pick up the bag he had dropped by his feet, but actually yelped in pain, gripping his side.

“I’ll get them.” Mikasa moved towards him, but with a growl he forced himself down to grab the bag.

"I don’t need your help.” He tried to keep the pain out of his mutter as he rooted through the satchel, eventually finding the little vial.

“Get it out now please.” Armin’s voice was muffled, his head still between his knees.

“What?”

He slowly lifted his head, looking wearily at Jean. “I know me and Mikasa messed up, and I know you’re pissed at us for thinking Falco would do something like that and betray us. And I also know you promised yourself you wouldn't shout at us, but you've also been trying to distract yourself from the pain of your ribs as you walk by thinking up exactly what you'll say when you shout at us; when you finally can’t keep it all in anymore and explode in anger at us.”

Both Mikasa and Jean just stared at Armin, too surprised to say anything.

“Armin I thought you were meant to be halfdead with tiredness.” Jean said, swallowing the two tablets dry. “Not internally conducting an analysis of my inner thoughts.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Armin sighed, stretching as his shoulder joints cracked. “Let’s get it over with.”

Jean shrugged. Both Mikasa and Armin watched him as gingerly he swung his bag back on. “Okay, I’ll admit I was pretty mad at first. But then I thought what was the point? You guys can live forever in fear of everyone else, forever suspicious and on guard. That’s up to you, no point me saying anything about it.” He looked at Mikasa, his eyes meeting hers properly for the first time since they left the hut. “Five minutes up?"

Quite stunned, she nodded, even though there was a good few minutes left. Jean turned and gently kicked Armin. “Come on slow poke, time to go.”

Mikasa could tell Armin was as surprised as she was by Jean. She couldn’t remember a time he _hadn’t_ risen to an argument, hadn’t been baited.

Luckily, it must have still been too early for any police patrols, and they got to the edge of the city without passing anyone. As they walked, it felt like they were the only ones awake for miles. All the houses that surrounded them had blinds drawn tight, and even guards dogs left outside didn't stir as their passed with soft steps. It was only as the houses grew more sparse did the first tendrils of smoke begin rising from chimneys.

At that stage, the sun had begun to peak across the horizon. Mikasa couldn’t see it yet over the roofs, but she could tell it was rising from the way the sky was awash with orange hues and splashes of pink. The moon was now but a shadow in the sky, a residue of night retained.

She looked behind her to make sure nobody had been left behind, collapsed in a gutter or something. Armin was at the back, staring down at the ground as he all but dragged his feet. Jean was closed to her, and was looking far more alert. He didn’t notice her watching him though; his head was craned back to admire the sky.

Mikasa allowed her eyes to linger on him. Knowing nobody could see, she smiled, noticing the splotches of red tinting his skin. She knew he would get burnt lying out in the sunshine for hours like a complete idiot.

Suddenly he looked away from the sky.

His eyes met hers, and she whipped her head back forward, the slightest blush colouring her cheeks. She wiped at her mouth, as if the smile had left an unsavoury taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I spy some Jean character development?👀💖


	30. Chapter Thirty - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! The amount of satisfaction I got from 3000 hits (nearly exactly actually) on chapter 30🤩🥳🥳 And also 200 comments!!! Absolutely insane, I actually cannot put into words how grateful I am to you all 🥰 Thank you so much ❤️  
> This story just honestly started as desperate need for a creative output while I waited for the next episode to drop, it was just something silly and I didn't even have an inkling of a plot when I wrote chapter 1. I ended up writing 9k words that day, 6k the next and 4k the day after. Something about this story really ignited me, and after I had around 25 chapter done, I said I'd upload it here, just as a backup more than anything else. I would never had thought anyone would be interested in reading this story, and all your views, comments, kudos and bookmarks honestly make my day every morning and make my soul smile🥰 So thank you all!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so when I was editing this chapter, I realised that (completely unintendedly) the story is divided into 3 parts. I would say chapter 29 is the ending of part 1, and chapter 30 is the beginning of part 2. Chapter 60 (which coincidently I'm actually writing right now) is the end of part 2, and chapter 61 will be the beginning of the final part of the plot. There's no time jump or anything, but it just feels the plot points change, and each part is documenting a different development of Jeankasa.  
> Because it's a 3,000 hits milestone (and 200 comments!) there will of course be a double upload, but tbh I like how this chapter ended, and felt chapters 31/32 would suit a double upload better, so tomorrow I promise! Thanks again for the support on this story, I hope ye all enjoy part 2🥰

_Jean_

Jean hadn’t quite realised the full meaning when Falco had mentioned fields. He had assumed there would be an odd farm they would pass. He hadn’t quite envisioned _this._

The path they were walking on was raised, and acted as a sort of embankment for the rest of the scenery. Surrounding them were the fields; although Jean thought _lakes_ would have been a far better description.

The land was around a meter lower than the path, and completely flooded. Thin green stalks protruded from the water, so thick in parts all Jean could see was green, and he could imagine it was normal grain growing from the ground.

At first Jean had thought the fields had been drowned by a burst river, but then realised why would the dirt path be raised? Why would mud embankments which acted as territory dividers equally be higher than ground level?

Jean briefly paused, leaning over as far as he could without losing his balance and plucking one of the grains. It was longer than he had expected, and the bottom half was wet. He eyed the head of it, trying to identify what was being grown. It looked almost like oats, but smaller.

He knew Armin would be the man to ask, but could tell Armin was extending all of his energy on walking. He didn’t have any left over for questions on grain, so Jean stored the stalk in his pocket and promised he’d ask later.

The path was only wide enough for single-profile. Jean was at the tail, with the role of making sure Armin didn’t get left behind. Mikasa was in the lead with also the role of making sure Armin didn’t get left behind because she didn’t trust Jean to do it properly (she had ignored Jean's reassurance that he would catch him if he fell). She also most likely understood that if she wasn’t the one setting the pace the two boys would stop for a nap as soon as possible.

Jean stretched and yawned, ignoring the ache in his side. Actually, most of him ached. He hadn’t walked so long and slept so little in a very long time. And he was so damn hungry. It must be nearly seven hours since that meat pastry he had brought them in Marley. Instantly, Jean’s mouth began to water. He imagined he was eating it again, the flakiness of the pastry, the intoxicating plumes of steam that rose, the tender meat, the –

He only just managed to catch Armin, his arms hooking under Armin’s armpits just before he hit the ground. Jean stared down in shock at him. How had Armin ended up in his arms? His body had reacted, but his mind was still most definitely stuck on Marleyan meat pastries.

“Armin. Hey Armin!” Jean patted his companion’s cheek, then placed a hand above his mouth.

“What –“ Mikasa was beside them in an instant.

“He’s breathing alright.” Jean gingerly pulled himself from under Armin, relaxing him on the floor. “I think he just fainted.”

Jean leaned back, grimacing. The quick movements coupled with catching Armin’s weight had really done a number on his ribs. It felt like there was fire in his chest.

He watched Mikasa look around, feeling oddly calm as panic took over her features.

“We can’t stay out here it’s-“

“I told you I’d catch him.”

She looked at him, her face scrunching up in confusion. “ _What?”_

Jean shrugged. “I just thought you should know that. I kept an eye on him and caught him.”

Annoyance flashed on her face when she realised what he was getting at. “I never said you _wouldn’t_ keep an eye on him.”

“Sure not verbally, but the way you kept looking behind you spoke volumes of your trust in my catching abilities.”

Her lips narrowed, and he could see her struggle to resist firing back. Settling on a narrowed eye glare at him, she returned her focus to Armin.

“We have to move him from here. It’s so exposed.”

“Where would you suggestion going?” Jean gestured around them. He wasn’t being smart, he was literally questioning her. They had been walking on the path for at least two hours, and still couldn’t make out the end of it on the horizon. And surrounding it at all times were the flooded fields. Everywhere Jean looked all he could see was water and grains and muddy embankments. These fields literally went on for miles.

Mikasa’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked around, before pointing ahead.

“It’s not ideal, but the path seems to be a bit thicker up ahead. We’ll carry him to-“ Her voice faded when she took in Jean’s hands raised, palms forward.

"I can't lift him. You’ll have to drag him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you _can’t_ lift him? He’s-“

“My ribs.” For once Jean was sincere. He could see the guilt that flashed across her face, and she looked away nodding.

“Look, fair enough we’re very exposed here. But so is everyone else. We’d be able to see anyone approaching us from either direction miles before they reach us. The path is so straight and level you’d probably be able to see a blurry figure walking on it before they would be able see us lying or sitting down, and then we can move off before they reach us.

Mikasa considered his words, and then nodded once.

“Okay. Four hours for Armin to rest up and someone stays up on watch. If you do the last one, I’ll do the first three hours.”

She didn’t phrase it as a question, but he could tell she was waiting for his agreement before she settled down. He frowned. He didn’t like the idea of her having so less sleeping time than him, but then again, he felt he needed some compensation for his burning ribs, so he nodded.

“If you’re sure. But don’t you dare let me rest longer than those three hours, got it?” He shuffled his bag under his head, trying to find a comfortable angle on the dirt road. “If I get too much sleep, I get grumpy.”

It didn’t really make much sense, but it did manage to lighten the mood. Mikasa sat by his feet, twisting a knife between her fingers. Jean rolled his eyes. Sometimes she was so damn dramatic, all without realising it.

***

“Jean. Jean wake up!”

A hand shaking him. Coldness. Dirt under him? A frantic voice. Armin.

Jean jerked awake, Armin’s hand still on his chest.

“Armin what…?” He voice slurred, and he didn’t bother finishing the sentence. There was too many questions to pick just one.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to take in everything. The sky above him was a dark blue, the promise of sunset fast approaching. It shouldn’t be dark after three hours. Mikasa was meant to wake him. Mikasa.

“Armin where’s-“

“It’s Mikasa.” Armin’s voice carried in a harsh hiss. “She’s doing it again. I don’t know how long she’s been in the trace, but it-

Jean pushed himself upwards, then started when he saw her.

She was sitting exactly how he had left her, cross-legged and straight backed. She was staring right at him, and he went to speak before realising she wasn’t looking at him. Her face was turned towards him, but she was looking past him, seeing another memory.

Her face suddenly contorted. Fear. She whimpered, raising her hand.

“No no please no. I don’t want to. I don’t want. Don’t make me Eren please –“ She sobbed, her body shaking as her voice trailed away to whispered cries. Her hand continued to rise, and with a start Jean realised it was the first time he’d seen her actually being able to move in the trance without being provoked.

It was then that Jean saw the knife, still gripped between her pale fingers.

“Oh fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the newest character of this story ✨rice fields✨


	31. Chapter Thirty one - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soothing back rubs return! honestly the fourth member of this group lol

_Armin_

Armin watched, almost too shocked to react, as Mikasa raised her hand, pointing the knife directly as Jean. Her other hand went to the ground, balancing her.

“Jean…” Armin whispered, unable to look away from Mikasa. “I think we should back up.”

“I think that might be a very good idea Armin.” Jean muttered back, trying to further sit up without any abrupt movements.

As sudden as anything, Mikasa wrenched open her mouth and screamed. Both Armin and Jean jumped, and Armin took the opportunity to shuffle back a few paces in his crouched position.

“No! I won’t! You can’t make me!” She shook her head vehemently as tears streamed down her face.

“Do you think she’s aware of us though? Can she-“

Armin began to wonder aloud before Jean’s hand grabbed his arm.

“Now is not the time for investigation Armin.” He began puling him away from Mikasa.

“Whose she talking to-?”

“Did you not listen to a word I just said Armin?” Jean grunted as he managed to push himself up into a crouched position, mirroring Armin. “We focus on getting our distance from the maniac with a knife, and then we can –“

Mikasa let out another guttural roar, the scream ending in words.

“No Eren! I won’t! You can’t make me!”

"Well at least that’s gotten answered for you.” Jean muttered darkly, his voice interrupted by another scream.

Mikasa shook her head wildly, and then, as if she was a puppet with its strings cut, her head went limp.

The two men froze.

“Is it… over?” Armin whispered hopefully.

No sooner had Armin said that did Mikasa’s head snap back to face them, her face unnervingly emotionless after such an outburst. The hand rested on the ground stretched, its fingers worming their way into the dirt. 

She pushed upwards from it, rising gracefully into a stand. The knife still firmly gripped in her hand.

“Shit.” Jean scrabbled upright, dragging Armin with him. His hand twisted into Armin’s top and he began to run, forcing Armin to keep pace. The path was narrow, and they had to sprint single file, trying not to lose balance or trip.

Armin couldn’t hear anything above the sounds of his own panting and the clapping of his heartbeat, but he turned to check that –

He didn’t have time to think. He grabbed Jean and launched the two of them off the path.

The impact of the water stung, and stalks jutted into Armin. He twisted, spluttering as water got in his mouth, trying to find his footing. The water rose to his waist, and he could feel the mud beneath his shoes move and settle.

He looked up to Mikasa. She was standing on the path in front of them, unmoving. Behind her, the sky was awash with the spill of sunset; orange and pinks and blue, but Mikasa was a silhouette in front of such a display. A figure of darkness. He could even make out her knife against the sky’s backdrop.

Beside him, Jean up righted himself, spluttering. The water wasn’t that deep, but it was freezing, and already Armin was beginning to shake.

Jean bent over, his arms resting against his knees and his face inches from the water. Armin figured he was just catching his breath, but when Jean remained in place Armin called out to him.

He didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did it sounded like every word was a struggle.

“My… ribs… The fall… really...” He didn’t finish the sentence, his gasps coming out with a groan.

Armin didn’t know what to do. He looked back at Mikasa, her silhouette seemingly frozen. She was waiting for them, he was sure of it. His eyes ran along the path, stopping to their abandoned bags. The first aid kit.

Should he get Jean to distract her and try and grab the bags? But even as he thought it he realised what a foolhardy idea that was. How could he possible hope to climb up the dirt mound stealthily without her noticing? What could Jean do to distract her which wouldn’t end with her hurting him.

Even though the only real option was to sit and wait it out, Armin imagined that it was Commander Erwin in his place, what he would think about it all.

For perhaps the millionth time, the universe was proving to Armin how much a mistaken Captain Levi had made bringing him back. Would Commander Erwin be standing waist high in mudwater, one friend waiting to kill them and the other struggling to breath? Or even if he was, would he be wasting time trying to figure out what Armin Artlert would do this position.

A laugh bubbled up, at the absurdity of the situation.

Jean took another grasping breath and Armin was immediately thrown back into the presence, a flash of guilt of having allowed himself to be distracted. He began to wade towards Jean, the silt underfoot threatening to sift and slip from under him but he managed the few steps until he was beside Jean.

Unsure what else he could do, he did his standard wide circle back rubs.

“If you want you can put her weight on me.” He murmured, and Jean nodded slowly.

Gingerly, Jean pushed himself upright, hissing in pain. Then before he could lose his balance, he threw one arm around Armin’s shoulder, leaning his body weight against Armin.

Armin wrapped one hand around him, carefully not to push against his side. Jean’s head rested on Armin’s shoulder, and he could feel his breath against his neck.

“Thanks Armin.. That’s… much better…” His voice were soft, but he no longer sounded like each word caused him agony.

Armin could feel his feet sink further into the mud, but he ground his heels against the silt, making sure he didn’t lose balance.

Unsure what else there really was to be done, he looked up at Mikasa. He couldn’t make out any of her features with the light behind. She wasn’t even standing like Mikasa. She was like a ghost, a being possessed.

_"No Eren! I won’t! You can’t make me!”_

Armin looked away, staring at the broken stems of grain from where he fell. He could feel Jean’s breathing grow more steady, and he almost seemed asleep, leaning entirely against Armin.

Armin’s legs and arm muscles were already beginning to burn, but he ignored them. If nothing else, Jean’s body warmth helped keep the water’s cold at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh row (the remix)  
> In all the Mikasa madness, a lil bit of Armin and Jean wholesomeness 💖


	32. Chapter Thirty two - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So once again, thank you all so much for the 3000+ hits and 200 comments. Here's the second half of the promised double upload! Hope ye all enjoy :)

_Jean_

For the second time that day, Armin woke him. A gentle shake and a whisper.

“Jean. I think she’s out of it.” His voice sounded horse and exhausted, and Jean forced his eyes open.

The pain in his ribs had been reduced to an angry throb, but the agony of before lingered, promising a return if he moved.

 _If._ As if he could just _choose_ to lean against Armin for the rest of time.

With a half snort half groan, Jean pulled away from Armin, keeping his hand on his friend’s shoulder for balance. As predicted, the return of his weight set off dizzyingly strong currents of pain, and Jean clenched his teeth to keep from shouting out.

The water’s coldness had near numbed his legs, and he couldn’t imagine being able to wade through the water without falling.

“See?” Armin nodded at the path, where Jean could just make out a collapsed body. “She staggered and fell a few minutes ago. I think she’s … Well I don’t think she’ll try and kill us now.”

Jean nodded, too exhausted to question Armin’s reasoning. “So we can just go up there?”

The two of them eyed the mound of dirt, its incline sharp. “I guess.”

“Can you move?”

Armin looked at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “Can you?”

“Yeah but I didn’t have a half-collapsed body against me for the few hours.”

“True, but I don’t have cracked ribs which are probably-most-definitely broken now.”

Jean knew they were talking rubbish simply to put off the climb. He eyed the embankment. Even getting to it would be tricky after so many hours in the water.

“Well… no time like the presence I guess.”

And with that, the two of them began to move forward.

Armin managed to grab him the two times he lost his footing, but he was too slow to save Armin from falling over. By the time they reached the embankment, both men were soaked and shivering.

Jean had resorted to doing what he did when he got overwhelmed; he compartmentalise. Just like he did with Marco’s death, what he did with Sasha’s shooting, what he did when he discovered the truth about Marco's death, and watched what happened to Connie during the Rumbling; he bundled the pain away, burying it until he had the time and space to deal with it.

Although physical pain was different, the idea worked the same. He pushed it down, ignored the mini explosions he felt with every footstep.

Armin declared softly he’d go up first, and Jean had nodded, rested against the dirt as he tried to catch his breath. Armin wasn’t in particular better shape than Jean was after having taken Jean’s weight for hours. Jean could see how his muscles shook with the exertion, and once or twice his dirt grip collapsed and would fall down until his heels stuck back in.

When Armin finally made it up, he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath in celebration, and then learnt down, holding his hand down for Jean.

Jean also allowed himself a moment before he grabbed the hand. He prepared to lock the pain away, push through until he was on the path. Then the walls could crumble, then he could scream and sob with the ache.

He grabbed Armin’s hand, and pushed himself upwards.

***

He collapsed beside Mikasa, without a thought about if it was safe to do so. He concentrated on breathing, nothing else except pushing against the vice currently strangling his lungs.

Armin threw himself down beside him, resting his had between his knees. Above them, the sky was a quilt, a million stars adorning it. It was strange that these were the same stars he saw at home. In that moment, home felt so foreign.

With a soft grunt, Armin stood up. “I’ll get the medical kit. You stay there.”

Jean half snorted, and immediately winced in it’s aftermath. As if he had any chose in the matter.

He turned his head, looking at Mikasa. Dark hair was spilt across her face with one strand caught against her mouth. Jean watching it dance on her breath. In and out. Up and down.

Armin returned, his body slumping in exhaustion. With fingers clumsy from the cold he unscrewed the vial, and wordlessly handed Jean three of the white tablets and a flask. It was only when Jean had finished the water did he realise it had been the last of it.

“Shit I-“

“You need it more than us.” Armin leaned over, retrieving a spare change of clothes. “I’m going to get changed. Do you want to or-“

He voice trialed off as Jean shook his head. “I’d rather freeze than try and move again Armin.”

Armin shrugged in a _your choice_ way, and his eyes moved from Jean to Mikasa. “Will we wake her?”

“No, better not incase she’s still not fully out of the trance.” Jean looked over at Mikasa. Her eyes were closed, and even though the side of her face was against the dirt, her mouth was open a little as she slept. She looked so peaceful. Not like she’d chased them down and tried to decorate the path with their guts just now.

“I’ll take first watch. Get some rest.” Armin’s voice cracked from exhaustion, but he looked resolutely at Jean. “I just need sleep because I’m tired, you need it to heal up okay?”

Too wrecked to argue, Jean nodded and closed his eyes.


	33. Chapter Thirty three - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter!

_Armin_

Armin rested his head against his satchel, but didn’t sleep. He lay on his back, and stared up at the stars. It was getting light, the hint of morning on the horizon. Although he was sure he’d been awake all the time, he must have slipped into a gentle nap to account for the lost hours. It hadn’t mattered; neither of the other two had stirred.

He was currently in a pleasant grogginess between sleep and alertness. He could feel his muscles were relaxed and somewhat recovered from the night, and as he lay back his consciousness meandered through thoughts and ponderings without sticking to any one.

His granddad had taught him all the names of the stars. Even though they were in a slightly different position here than at home, he could still identify them all. He was drifted through the names, reciting them under his breath.

Near him, Jean groaned softly, and Armin twisted his head to check if he was still asleep. He had decided to let Jean sleep as long as he needed to. Although he was too wrecked to focus on it fully, he knew that Jean’s ribs were in a bad way.

He understood why Jean had opted not to change into clean clothes, but he was lucky it had a warm evening. Armin allowed himself to ponder how much colder it would have to be for Jean to start shivering, before realising it was a morbid thought.

Before he had laid down, he had managed to rouse himself enough to kick the knife out of Mikasa’s hand, and he held it in his now. He held it up to the starlight, admiring it’s shine. It was one of their kitchen knifes. Ironic that Armin had sliced lumps of butcher meat with it many a time, and today it almost sliced him. He wondered if –

“Armin?”

Armin craned his head back, and as if he had summoned her with his thoughts, Mikasa was sitting up, blinking to make him out.

“Jean?” A note of panic entered her voice, and before Armin could stop her she leaned over and shook the sleeping man.

He hissed, and opened an eye. He tried to speak, but the words came out in a slurred conglomeration of sounds and he tried again. “Mikasa?”

She looked from him to Armin and back to him, and then it clicked. Armin could see the exact moment she realised what must’ve happened, how she sat back on her heels and looked between them.

For a moment no-one spoke, and Armin noticed tears were filling up Mikasa’s eyes. Still drowsy, he realised he couldn’t properly remember the last time he had seen Mikasa cry.

“Jean…” She whispered, looking down at him… “Did I do that to you?”

Armin knew Jean was as surprised to see such emotion from Mikasa. She was normally so… guarded. In that moment, there was no restrain; Armin and Jean could see all her emotions, all the thoughts and feelings that flooded through her mind.

“Well, technically Armin actually landed the blow.” Jean said, in such a unnervingly cheerful manner Armin stared at him. “So that’s something for you at least.” He shifted a slightly, grunting.

Mikasa looked at Armin, waiting for him to explain. He sighed, sitting up straighter.

“Do you remember anything Mikasa? Anything at all?”

Her eyes moved from his face to the knife he still gripped in his hands, and if possible her face paled even more.

“I remember… I remember you fainting Armin, and we decided to stay and rest for four hours… And I said I’d take the first three and…” Her voice faded, her gaze moving to Jean.

He raised an eyebrow. “And then…?”

“And then there’s… it’s like… it was a dream… I think… And I had that-that knife,” She raised a slightly trembling finger, and brow furrowed as she tried to recollect more. “And Eren… was with me… And….”

She looked away, biting her lip. “And he was talking to me… And I…” She took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the dirt by her knees. “And I tried to stop him. It was exactly like how it was at the end of the actually Rumbling. I tried to – tried to kill him.” She looked back at the other two, and sudden the vulnerability was gone. She was unreadable, her face carefully constructed to show what she wanted to project. “I tried to kill Eren like I did eight years ago.”

Armin frowned, and caught Jean’s eye for a moment.

“Well, either way. It wasn’t Eren you charged at; it was us. Armin only just managed to get us out of the way before you skewed us.” As if in reaction to her facial change, a note of bitterness had entered Jean’s voice. “So thanks for that.”

Mikasa straightened, leaning over and grabbing her bag. The two men watched her as she rummaged around, until she emerged with two apples.

Armin tried to ignore how empty his stomach suddenly was.

“Here.” Mikasa passed the apples to the two. “It’s the last of our food, so we’ll have to restock at the next town.”

He could tell Jean was equally as shocked as he was with the topic change, but both were too hungry to pull her up on it. Armin went to bit into his before he noticed Mikasa just sitting cross-legged watching them. “Where’s your apple Mikasa?”

She shrugged. “Falco and Jean ate theirs at the beach, so there was only two left.”

Immediately Jean rejected the offering. “No, it’s yours Mikasas.” Armin was amazed at how gracious he was being considering the events of the previous night.

She shook her head, her face softening up just the slightest. “No, it’s the least I could… I’m sorry… Both of you… Please have it Jean, I’m not hungry anyway.”

He gave her a suspicious side-eye, but bit into it anyway.

As they silently devoured the fruit, Mikasa pored over their map. Behind them, the first glimmer of the sun birthday over the horizon, and more colours spilt onto the lightening sky. When only a few brown seeds were left and the sun was half emerged, she stood, dusting herself off. Armin watched her, careful to keep his face as expressionless as she was. He couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. Even the trances aside, something was amiss. She was burying something in her mind, hiding it from her two friends.

She turned, looking at the two of them. “Can you walk? According to the map there should be a town up ahead just over a mile. It should be far enough from the city that the chances of us being recognised would be reasonably slim. We can rest and grab some more food and water.”

Armin nodded, and looked at Jean, who was grimacing.

“Yeah sure it’ll be fine.” He said in a manner that indicated it would be far from fine.

“The path gets a little bit wider further up, I can help you.” Armin offered, and Jean offered him a tired smile.

“You’ll get tired of carrying my weight someday soon Armin.” He started to push himself up, and Armin helped him up to a standing position. The only sign of discomfort Jean gave was a soft hiss.

Together, their gaze returned to Mikasa, who was back to sifting through her bag.

She must have felt their focus on her, because she lifted her head and looked at them. “I really am sorry for last night. I… I didn’t mean to, you know I would never hurt either of you. I’d rather die.” A touch of the raw vulnerability was back, and she looked between them, almost pleading with them to understand. “I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“How can you promise that Mikasa?” Jean shifted his weight, clearly trying to find the least painful stance.

Mikasa didn’t answer, but pulled out a coil of rope from her bag.

“I need one of you to tie up my hands.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's past midnight and I'm very very sleepy, and I'm listening to Stromae's "Ave Cesaria" which always puts in a bit of an emotional mood, but I just wanted to say (without getting ridiculously mushy lol) how grateful I am to all of you. It's been nearly a year of lockdown, and I was missing my friends and missing non-Zoom chats and just missing life in general when I started this story. Uploading a chapter or so each day has really focused my everyday routine, and I simply adore reading all of your thoughts and comments on the story, and just generally having the chats with ye all. I've currently been working on my own fantasy novel since October, but had really lost confidence in it. Your wonderfully kind comments and the response on this story really motivated me not only to see this story through to the end (the first time I'll have ever finish a project!) but to give my book another go. So thank you all so very much :') And hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	34. Chapter Thirty four - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A touch of Jeankasa ✨tension✨

_Mikasa_

She watched the two of them stare at the rope in her hand, for a moment both too shocked too react.

Armin recovered first, shaking his head. “No, Mikasa, I can’t tie you up! I don’t think that’s necessary, as long as –“

“I’ll do it.” Jean grunted, shifting his weight once more.

Mikasa bent down to grab both her and Jean's bags, and made sure the straps were tight enough they wouldn’t jostle and slip from her shoulders. Jean watched her silently, and she walked over him. She was careful to keep her distance and held out the rope.

“If you think I’m leaning over towards you, think again.” He said with a hint of annoyance, and Mikasa took another step closer.

She looked up, waiting for instructions, and realised she was nearer to him than she’d been in a long time. He looked tired, and flecks of mud were sprinkled on his cheeks and nose like freckles. She was so close she could even see the flecks of green in the hazel rings of his corneas and she looked down. A spell broken. His hands roughly grabbed the rope from her, and she held her wrists towards him, palms upwards.

They were quiet as he wound the rope around her. Once or twice he fingers skimmed her inner wrists, and she could feel their aftereffects, the echo of warmth that seemed to bury into her skin.

He kept the rope tight, and tied a double knot.

“Is that tight enough?” His voice was low, and Mikasa didn’t look up, but flexed against the binding. There was no budge. She couldn’t imagine being able to get out of this without help, even full rampage mode.

She nodded. “Thanks Jean.”

He didn’t move away, and Mikasa raised her gaze to his chest. It was still damp and clung to his skin from the muddy water. He sighed, and then turned back to Armin. She missed his presence immediately, the body heat she hadn’t even realised he’d been giving off until he was gone.

She straightened, looking over at the birthed sun, it’s rays still watered down. She knew from experience that was the sun of a hot day, and hoped they could reach the town before it had reached its full strength. The path seemed to stretch endlessly on, the water fields around them expansive.

Their pace was slow, and the group had to stop often for both Armin and Jean. Jean would crouch, gripping his side, while Armin stretch, trying to get rid of a cramp in his shoulder. Mikasa kept her distance, but could see how exhausted the two men were. Armin’s muscles shook slightly as he took back Jean’s weight, acting as a crutch.

She wished she could help, but they didn’t ask and she didn’t offer. How could she, when she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t try and kill them at only moment.

It made her feel sick, and at one stage she had to sit back on her haunches, her bound hands brought up to her eyes. How could she do that? Take a knife and try to-

She imagined for a brief moment what it would have been like, waking up to their bodies. Looking down and seeing the bloody knife in her hand.

Her mind tried to venture further back; back into the dream she’d had. The dream where she was gripping the knife, and Eren was in front of her and her friends were behind. And he started to –

She cut it off, burying it deep. She wouldn’t think of that, of what she thought she’d been doing. She wouldn’t.

Mikasa stood up again, ignoring the backache from the two satchels as she started to walk.

She looked around, noticing for the first time the little figures beginning to populate the fields. She had begun to wonder if anyone actually tended for the grains. She watched them for awhile. It looked hard but peaceful work, and they all but ignored the group.

***

Their reached the town a little before midday, and as she had predicted the sun was blasting down on them. Her throat was parched, and every time she went to swallow the back of her mouth remained dry.

The two boys ahead weren’t fairing much better. She could tell the walk had wrecked them both, and as soon as the path left the floodplains and opened up onto level ground Jean gently lowered himself and Armin all but threw himself to the ground.

They hadn’t moved by the time Mikasa had caught up. She stood by their feet, taking their appearance in. Armin’s fast panting and Jean’s shallow breathing.

“I’ll find some food and water.” She announced to them, and the only reaction she got was a thumbs up from Jean.

“I need the ropes undone though.” Admittedly she was incredibly wary of this, but she couldn’t exactly wander through the town with bound wrists, and neither of the other two were in a fit state to go on the hunt for water.

With a slight groan, Armin pushed himself up into a sitting position and gestured for Mikasa. His fingers were clumsy and pinched her skin as he tried to undo the knot. Mikasa tried not to wince.

Eventually though, she felt it give, and with one final pull the knot fell apart. She quickly unwound the rope, letting it drop to the ground. She also shrugged off Jean’s bag, but kept hers on.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She said softly. They were both to exhausted to reply, and she accepted gravely that it was all because of her. She caused all this pain.

She couldn’t _unbreak_ Jean’s rib, _undo_ last night. She couldn’t take away aching ribs or exhaustion, couldn’t make better what she had done that night.

But she’d be damned if she couldn’t find them both lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama Mikasa back, and she gonna feed her babies if it's the last thing she does 😤🧃  
> Jean in the back - 😴👍


	35. Chapter Thirty five - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for over 200 kudos! And 17 bookmarks! I hope ye all enjoy the chapter😊💖

_Armin_

Armin woke up to Mikasa shaking him gently, a bowl of something steaming under his nose.

“What-“ The question died on his tongue when he took a deep breath in, his attention focusing on the rich smell of vegetables of beef bowl in front of him. Soup.

He threw himself up, and Mikasa scowled at him, holding the bowl above his head. “Careful Armin, you nearly hit against the bowl!”

She softened, handing the bowl to him. “It’s a local dish, sometime of stew I think. It smells good anyway so eat up.”

She moved around to Jean’s side, collected the other bowl she’s left by the bags.

Armin looked down. A wooden spoon was dipped into the brew, and delicately he picked it up and stirred the bowl’s contents. A fried egg topped the dish, but underneath he could spy pale noodles bathing in some sort of watery soup. He lifted the spoon up, spotting slices of green vegetables and carrots, and even lumps of meat. And the smell was divine.

As Mikasa gently woke Jean, Armin had his first sip. His eyes widened. Probably because it had been over twenty four hours since he’d eaten or drank anything other an apple, but this strange collection of foods in a broth was the best damn thing he’d ever had.

“Here.” Mikasa said softly and put her arms around Jean, offering support as he sat up. He whimpered nevertheless, but the pain gave way to hunger when he saw what Armin was eating.

Wordlessly, Mikasa handed him the bowl, and without questioning what it was he dived in. Mikasa sat beside him, helping herself to her bowl in a much more restraint manner, and by the time Armin and Jean had finished she was only half way through.

Armin watched her as she picked up a spoonful of the broth, but let it trickle back into the bowl.

“What’s wrong Mikasa?”

She looked up, startled by his voice. “Nothing nothing, just not hungry,” she muttered.

“How _can’t_ you be hungry? You didn’t even have an apple.” Jean asked, the first thing he had said since waking up. Wordlessly, Mikasa handed her bowl to him.

“No wait that’s not what I mean-“

“I told you I’m not hungry.” After he didn’t take it immediately from her, she left it on the ground and stood, walking back to the bags. Jean shrugged, and offered to split it with Armin. Truthfully Armin felt stuffed, and no sooner had he shook his head was Jean diving into the bowl.

“I found a doctor in the town too. Although she seems more of a chemist than anything else. I tried to get her to see you, but she all but slammed the door in my face. I think we should try and go together. If she sees you Jean she might relent and have a look at your ribs.”

Armin was nodding along as Jean shook his head.

“No way. That’ll cost money. I’m fine. I just need a night or two and-“

“Jean.” Armin gave him a level gaze. “You can barely walk. You need to see this doctor.”

Jean still shook his head, seemingly ignoring the fact he hadn’t even been able to sit up by himself.

“No, we only have a limited amount of money and –“

“We also have a limited amount of time too. If we keep at the pace that mile took to get here we won’t reach Hizuru until snowfall.” Mikasa said, surprisingly gently.

“And anyway, I don’t particularly feel like being your crutch for the next few months.” Armin joked, trying to get Jean to feel better. He bit his lip, looking between Armin and Mikasa, before relenting.

“Okay, but if it goes beyond a certain charge, we’re leaving, right?”

Armin stood up, stretching his arms until the joints cracked. They were still crazy stiff from taking Jean’s weight, but the benefits of a hot meal had done wonders for him, and he was already feeling more energised.

He leant down to Jean, offering up his hand.

“No time like the present, right?” He quipped, half remembering the last time he’d heard those words, and Jean rolled his eyes.

“No time like the present.” He answered, gripping Armin’s hand.

***

Even walking to the chemist’s house was hard going. Armin could hear Jean’s soft moans at every step, and by the time they stopped outside a little cottage, Armin was all but dragging Jean.

Mikasa paused, looking at the two of them. “Ready?”

Armin nodded, knowing this was the only opportunity to get Jean the help he needed. They couldn’t mess it up.

Mikasa returned his nod, then rapped on the door three times before stepping back beside them.

It took a moment, but then the door swung open.

A woman in her early sixties looked out at them, her grey hair hanging around her shoulder. Her gaze took in Jean and Armin before noticing Mikasa, and her expression hardened, sniffingloudly.

“Oh no not you again. Look I told you –“ She went to shut the door, and before he could think Armin shouted.

“No please. You have to help our friend. He’s in a bad way.” Apparently his outburst surprised her as much as it had him, and the woman slowly opened the door again, her gaze returning to Armin.

“It’s his ribs.” Armin pleaded. He had one hand gripping Jean’s arm that was swung around his neck, the other was rested on his hip, and he shifted, making sure Jean didn’t fall.

“I-“ Jean took a shuddering breath, and released it slowly. “- fell. Off the path by the fields. I think they’re…” He paused to take another breath… “broken.”

The woman’s eyes had flickered to Jean when he spoke, but returned to Armin. Armin tried not to break eye contact and resisted the urge to stare at the floor. Her eyes seemed to stretch to an indefinite depth, and were the same hue as burnt honey. There was something disconcerting about the way she was looking at him, as if she was trying to see _into_ him.

“He’s your friend?” She said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

She paused another moment, and then stepped aside. “Well, sit him on the counter over there.”

When they had hobbled in, she slammed the door behind them, sweeping past them into the room.

It was her kitchen, Armin realised. A wooden table was set up in the middle, surrounded by a single rickety chair. All around the room was things, but Armin didn’t bother looking around; he was concentrating on making sure Jean didn’t lose his balance. Something even bumped against his head, but he didn’t look up.

The woman collected the paper spread out across the table, and patted the surface.

“Set him down here. Mind you I’m not promising anything. Just a look is all.”

Suddenly, a portion of the weight was lifted, and Armin looked to see Mikasa taking Jean’s other arm. He gave a quick, exhausted smile.

They reached the table, and turned Jean around. He managed to somehow push himself up on the table, crying out as he did so, but as soon as Armin and Mikasa let go off him he slumped to the side.

Armin managed to catch him before he hit against the table, and looked at the woman in near panic.

“Wha-“

Suddenly she was beside him, sighing as she looked down on Jean’s face. “He’s fainting.” She sighed again. “I guess you might as well lie him on the table.”

Mikasa took his legs and Armin took his head and shoulders, and together they swung him around until he was horizontal, resting on the wood.

Looking around, Armin realised what had hit against his head. The roof of the kitchen was almost hidden under was forest of dried herbs and spices hanging from the ceiling. It was looking up into a sea of browns and greens, and Armin wondered how could the lady possible need so many dried herbs.

He realised then that she had left him and Mikasa, but no longer had he notice did she return, holding a little vial.

She went to Jean’s head, looking down at him for a moment before returning her gaze to Armin.

“What’s your name?” The question was so abrupt it took Armin a moment to answer her. He only realised then that she spoke with a slight flourish in her accent.

“A-Armin.”

“Well, Armin I need you to hold up your friend’s head.” She began to unstop the vial. “I need him awake for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dish Mikasa buys is a bowl of ramen. In the process of writing this I realised I somehow have never had ramen, so guess what's number one thing to try once restaurants are back open!


	36. Chapter Thirty six - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this chapter :)

_Jean_

Jean gasped awake, twisted his head away from the pungent smell.

“That’s more like it.” A deep voice said from above, but when he looked up all he could see was haze of brown. The fire in his sides grew in intensity, and he hissed out a breath as his ribs were consumed in flames.

Where was he and who was this strange woman back over him with hair streaked with greys and where was Armin and Mikasa and why -

“Well, he awake now anyway.” He snuffled, trying to get the stinging smell out of his nose.

“Where-“ His voice came out as a wordless groan, and he tried again. “Where-“

“It’s okay.” He turned his head, and immediately he relaxed as he saw Armin beside him. “We’re at the chemist's, remember? The one Mikasa found. Look she’s beside you.”

Jean twisted his head to the other, and saw a worried Mikasa looking back at him.

“Wha-“ He tried again, only this time he cut himself off. He jumped, feeling rough fingers begin to lift his shirt.

“Relax.” The older woman’s face appeared in his vision, looking at Jean with an annoyed frown. “I need to see your side.”

He couldn’t argue with her, but it still felt very odd to be undressed by some woman he met five minutes ago. There was a joke in there somewhere he-

He gasped, his head hitting against the wooden table. Her coarse fingers were pressing against him, and the pain that exploded from her touch was unlike anything he had felt before. It felt like a titan was chewing on his ribs, crushing them to dust between their rotten teeth.

“Do you have to-!?”

“Be quiet girl! You asked for help, I’m giving it. Now does this hurt.”

Jean gritted his teeth, and forced out a “ _yes_ ”.

Her touch moved further up, and if possible the pain increased. He yelped, his hands shooting from his side, scrambling to find something, _anything_ to grip. He didn’t even know what he was doing know, his eyes squeezed shut and his senses overridden by pain.

“How about here.”

"Yes!”

Her fingers left his side, and he exhaled. And then they touched his other side and suddenly the titan was back.

“This side too?”

Jean clenched the joints in his fingers. “Yes.”

Her fingers moved up his side, pausing to ask Jean a question and to receive a pained _yes_ before continuing their roam of his ribs. Jean’s breathing became shallow pants, and at one point his vision left him and he must have blacked out for a second, because he was suddenly pulled back to reality with another prod at his side.

After what felt like hours but must have only been a few minutes, the woman removed her hands from his skin, and with a surprising level of gentleness pulled his shirt back down.

Jean tried to calm down, to unclench his teeth at least. He stared up at the sea of herbs above him, trying to ignore the painful echoes of her fingers pressing against him. He relaxed his fingers, and realised that while one was wrapped around the table’s edge, the other was against something soft.

He turned his head, looking at Mikasa’s wrist gripped in his hand. She must have been resting her hand on the table and he just grabbed it.

He felt a flush of embarrassment, and slowly eased his fingers away from her. He had been gripping hard, and had left little red shadows against her pale skin. Had he hurt her?

He looked up at her, but she was staring at her wrist too, her eyes wide.

“Mikasa did I hurt you? I’m sorry?” His voice was low, raw from all his yelps and gasps in the last five minute.

She looked up at him, almost in surprise, as if she had forgotten he was there at all. She opened her mouth–

“Well, I have good and bad news.”

The woman demanded Jean’s attention as she leant over him from above, her face upside. Jean looked up at her, gulping, before she moved back.

“The good news is that they’ll heal by themselves just dandy as long as you put salve on them every night and morning. Bad news is they’re one of the worst cases of broken ribs I have seen for some time. You will have to rest for at least four days before you think about travelling again.”

Jean’s eyes widened as he watched her walk to a cabinet and rummage around in it. “The extra good news is that I even have the salve you need – made a batch a few months ago to mend a hurt rabbit I found in the garden.”

She placed two tubs of crème on the table beside Jean’s head, her fingers caging them to the table. “They’ll be fifty coins… each.”

Jean had begun to shake his head even before he’d heard the _each._ No way, that was nearly a third of their budget. And anyway, who was to say this old lady was even legitimate? She could just shove some soap into a tub and try and sell it to every injured person to came to her door. Absolutely not –

“Fine.” Mikasa already had their money bag.

“Mikasa!” Jean cried out, horrified she would even consider it.

“Jean. We don’t really have a choice. You need to heal.” Armin’s voice attempted to soothe Jean, but he shook his head.

“No way, Mikasa stop!”

Mikasa ignored him, and he watched with wide eyes as she sorted through the bag with trembling fingers, taking a few coins out before handing it over the woman.

The woman immediately reopened the bag, her fingers sifting through the coins within while her mouth silently counting. Half way through she froze, her eyes widened.

“Is there a problem? Is there not enough?” Armin asked, the hint of childhood panic he’d never fully been able to rid himself off returning.

The woman’s eyes slid from the coins to Armin, and she regarded him for a silent moment.

“No, no problem. Money is all there.” With slow movements she tied the bag back up and placed it on the counter behind her.

“You have a place to stay with your friend Armin?” She said, her eyes still not leaving Armin. Jean could tell how unnerved Armin was at the attention, and how hard he was trying to relax.

“No, but I’m sure we can camp out –“

His voice trailed away as she shook her head. “You call this man your friend, and you’re willing to let him languish in the elements?”

If possible Armin paled even further. “N-no I just meant.”

She turned away from him then, looking at at a cabinet displaying old photos and chipped plates. “No, you will stay with me. For four days until your friend is well enough to travel again.”

She turned, clearing not expecting an answer. “Come, I’ll show you to where you'll stay. Leave your friend; he needs to rest before moving again.”

Before Armin could even stand Jean had grabbed his wrist, his eyes wide. “Don’t you dare leave me alone in this crazy woman’s kitchen Armin!” He hissed.

Armin’s eyes looked over to make sure she hadn’t heard him as he tried to untangle himself from Jean’s grip. “Jean, do you think I’m going to argue with her! I’m more scared of her than I am of you!”

“Armin!” Jean whisper-shouted. “Armin Arlert don’t you dare.”

Armin twisted his his hand in such a way Jean was forced to let go of him. “Jean I’ll be back I promise!”

Jean gave him a silent glare to show how pissed of he was at being abandoned on a kitchen table, and listened to his and Mikasa’s steps fade. It would be just his luck if the two of them got murdered out there and he was left on this damn table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter one of my favourite things ever to have written happen to a character is gonna happen and I'm so excited haha


	37. Chapter Thirty seven - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw wow thank you so much for all the support! Honestly means the world to me, and I'm so thrilled people are enjoying the story :)

_Armin_

Armin was surprised when she led them through an austere bedroom at the back of the kitchen without stopping, and instead opened a door into her garden.

 _Garden_ was perhaps too kind a word to use to describe the mess of nature outside her door. While the area surrounding their hut at home consisted of neat meadows and a few forests, this place was a wild whirlwind of shades of green. Trees with branches low enough to touch the floor had seemingly been planted haphazardly , knee-high grass and nettles brushed against Armin, bushes exploding everywhere and fledgling hedges wove through the area, currently only shin-high but offering fantastic tripping obstacles. There wasn’t even a clear path, but never the less the lady led them through this mini-jungle with confident strides.

Armin could see where she was leading them. Up ahead there was a little wooden shed, clearly built by their host.

She swung open the door, and went in to light a lamp.

The first thing that struck Armin was the aroma. It was dry and gave off the tang of sawdust, straw and… animals?

“Well come in.” She barked at them, and Armin hurried in, Mikasa close behind him.

He blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the darkness. The shed was surprisingly deep, and at the entrance there were stacked hay bales.

Armin allowed his gaze to meander further towards the back, where some boxes had been set up on tables. He blinked, squinted. No, not boxes, _cages._

The woman was busy arranging the hay piles to just one corner, and remembering his manners, Armin went to help her.

She didn’t acknowledge his help, but the fact she didn’t shout at him to get away must’ve meant she appreciated the helping hand. When it was done, Armin stepped back, and attempted to pick all the twigs of straw off his shirt. He glanced at Mikasa, who was staring at the cages at the back. She seemed strange, her eyes almost unseeing, and for one horrified moment Armin thought she was falling into one of her trances again.

But then he noticed one of her hands twisting and wringing the other wrist, and he relaxed. For some reason she was unsettled, but she wasn’t going full psycho on them yet.

Armin took a step forward, his focus redirected to the cages. There was something inside them. Something living.

“Are those… _rabbits?”_

He peered down into the nearest pen, and two little red eyes met his.

The woman looked over at him, sniffing. “Yes, and don’t get any ideas for dinner alright? They’re all just here to get better and then I release them. Now go get your friend, you three can sleep here.” She looked around the shed again. “It’s not exactly the height of luxury, but it’s warm and dry and relatively comfortable if you use the hay as bedding… Now go get your friend.” She held open the door, clearing directing them out, and Armin scurried out with Mikasa fast behind him. This lady seemed nice, but she still scared him a lot.

By the time the were back at Jean’s side, he was fast asleep. Armin rolled his eyes. _So much for being left terrified on the table._

Armin woke him gently, and the two of them helped him down and to the shed with an arm each around their shoulders. Mikasa still hadn’t said a word yet, and Armin wondered what was up with her this time.

***

Armin stood over a bunny with fur of dark tufts. He was making soft cooing noises, trying to get the creature to come out from behind a log. For some reason he desperately wanted to feel the fur; it looked insanely soft.

“Hey, Armie-baby, can rabbits bite?” Jean called over, and Armin looked back at him, an eyebrow raised. When Jean had gotten settled down in the shed, he had been grimacing in pain, and not only applied some cream to his ribs but had also had three of the painkillers. Probably wasn’t the best idea, but Armin had been preoccupied with looking at the rabbits that surrounded them and had handed him the vial without thinking.

It turned out it indeed not to have been a good idea, and Jean was currently flying among the clouds, the combination of herbal cream and drugs buzzing through his bloodstream.

“I don’t think so Jean.” Armin replied in a measured tone, his focus returning to the rabbit. Maybe if he had some food to lure it out with or-

“I think we should leave.”

Mikasa’s voice was quiet, and Armin turned to stare at her, surprised that those were the first words she’d chosen to say in hours. He noticed though her fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, and she still looked slightly shaken.

“What are you _talking_ about Me-kakaka? Woah what’s this?” Jean was suddenly distracted by a piece of straw stuck on his sleeve.

Mikasa ignore him completely, looking up instead at Armin. “I think we should go now.”

Armin looked over at the rabbit, seeing him behind the bark. He thought he’d call him Sootie - his coat looked as if he’d been playing in coal. “Why?”

“I don’t trust her. I mean for all we know she could’ve injured Jean’s ribs even more and than drugged him.” Armin sighed, and looked back at the two of them. Mikasa, her eyes wide and imploring, and Jean, who was currently trying to taste the straw.

“I think Jean’s behaviour may have more to do with him mixing medicines than anything. And anyway, if nothing else, she has a point. Jean’s too injured to walk anywhere beyond this town, and what will we do when we’re waiting for him to recover? Where can we go?”

Mikasa shook her head. “Anywhere’s better than being poisoned or killed. She gives me a weird feeling; she was so against looking at Jean until she saw you, and then she changed her tune. What if she recognises you or something?” As Mikasa was speaking, Jean was leaning over, trying to convince her to taste the straw herself.

Armin considered her words as she batted Jean away. “I know what you mean, but I don’t think she would’ve helped Jean if that was the case. Why not just have us arrested immediately?”

“Because – _no Jean stop –_ Armin she’s crazy?! Do you not –“ Mikasa speech was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the two of them froze, staring at each other as Jean persevered in shoving a piece of straw in Mikasa’s face.

Before either of them could react, the door swung open, and the woman stood, looking at the three of them. She sniffed, and then gestured to the cottage behind. “Dinner’s ready. Don’t let it get cold.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and left.

In the end it wasn’t Armin who convinced Mikasa to go into the cottage, but Jean. His eyes had stayed focused on the door, and he had interrupted Mikasa’s hushed argument to Armin.

“Dinner? Come on Armie-baby and Mekakasa. I’m starving.” He half attempted to push himself up, and nearly lost his balance but caught himself against the wall just in time.

Armin was mildly amazed. He couldn’t tell if it was the drug combination suppressing the pain or whether the cream was actually working, but either way Jean was already seeming better than he had done that morning.

Still though, with a gentle shrug at Mikasa he looped Jean’s arm around his shoulder and together they left the shed. He didn’t check if Mikasa would follow them and couldn’t hear her steps over Jean’s humming, but he knew she’d be behind them. She wouldn’t let them walk (or be dragged in Jean’s case) into danger by themselves.

Armin had assumed the lady would hand them some bread and send them back to the hut, but when they arrived in the kitchen the table had been set. The one chair remained, but joining it was a small stool and two boxes.

A simple soup was set at each table-place, along with a thick, chunk of brown bread. The woman was already tucking into her meal, but nodded at the three to sit. Armin set Jean in the stool, and decided to sit beside him to make sure he didn’t do something mad like try and get under the table to gnaw the wooden leg or something, and Mikasa sat opposite them.

He already knew Mikasa wouldn’t touch her meal, but he and Jean immediately dived in. Armin tried to keep a little bit of decorum, but Jean was like a wild animal. Armin watched, half impressed and half disgusted. He had never known anyone with an appetite like Jean’s; he was acting as if he _hadn’t_ eaten a full meal and a half just that morning.

The only time he stopped eating was when he suddenly noticed the spoon he gripped, and blinked in surprise. Armin wearily watched as Jean held it up to the light, and then tried to bite it.

“No Jean, a spoon is not food. Soup is food.” Armin redirected Jean’s attention back to the bowl in front of him, and Jean happily went back to his meal.

“Is he always like this?” Armin looked up to see the woman watching Jean with something near disgust on her face, and Armin felt himself blush for Jean.

“No no. He just… well he put some of your cream on but then also took some painkillers and – no Jean the knife isn’t food either _–_ and he’s been like this for a few hours.” Armin said, trying to keep his voice level as he tried to wrangle the knife out of Jean’s mouth. Opposite him, Mikasa watched coolly, offering no support.

The woman chuckled, the sound surprising both Jean and Armin long enough for Armin to free the knife.

“Well that would explain it.” There was silence for some more moments, and then she spoke again. “So where are the three of you travelling to?”

Armin met Mikasa’s gaze across the table, and immediately cursed that they hadn’t thought up a cover story when they had been in the hut.

“My family. We’re visiting my family.” Mikasa said, surprisingly calm.

The woman nodded, staring at Mikasa with her intense gaze until Mikasa looked away. “And where about's would your family be.”

For some reason, at that moment Jean’s words popped into Armin’s head.

_You guys can live forever in fear of everyone else, forever suspicious and on guard. That’s up to you._

He didn’t want to live in fear, not any more, not for the last year of his life. He didn’t want to have to consistently lie, constantly hide the truth from strangers. He wanted to trust, he _yearned_ to trust.

“Oh just somewhere South-“

“A town on the border of Hizuru and the Middle East Union.” He looked at the lady, ignoring the shocked glare Mikasa gave him.

She returned his gaze, nodding slowly. “That’s quite the journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High!Jean ! Haha maybe because this is quite a angst-y and dark story, but I loved writing this, it was such a light scene to get into to, and imagining Jean off his head high was massively entertaining haha. Hope you all enjoyed it!


	38. Chapter Thirty eight - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4000 hits! And the fact nearly a third of all bookmarks on this story have been in the 3 days! Thank you guys so much for all the support on this story, I'm so thrilled that people seem to be enjoying the plot and characters, and I'm so grateful and appreciative for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and hits 💖 As always, double upload for the milestone, and I'm actually so happy because I love these two chapters :') Enjoy! And thanks again x

_Mikasa_

Mikasa couldn’t believe Armin had just told this stranger their plans. Annoyance and anger bubbled within her, and she had to settle for glaring at him as he purposely avoided her gaze. What was he thinking?

The woman nodded her head slowly at Armin. “That’s quite the journey... And I assume your on a tight time schedule.”

Mikasa said “no” the exact same time Armin said “yes”, and they both looked at each other. Armin’s gentle gaze met her fiery one, and he looked away first.

The woman laughed again, a noise like crunching gravel. Mikasa got the impression it was a sound rarely made.

“Yes.” Armin repeated himself, purposely avoiding Mikasa’s eye.

Mikasa’s hands went under the table, where she gripped the sides of the box she was sitting on until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this angry – even including every single time Jean had muddied her polished floor.

 _Why_ wasn’t Armin listening to her? He had discounted her opinion on this old lady and gone into her house, eaten her food. Now he wasn’t even listening to her warnings, and instead spilling out their entire plan to this random woman.

Mikasa breathed through flared nostrils. She knew _physically_ she couldn’t be trusted, _physically_ she had to be restraint because of her trances. She _knew_ it, and although it hurt like anything, she understood it. But this? She was in her own mind, she was in control. It was her, Mikasa. And still not trusted, still pushed away. She felt useless, her thoughts and feelings completely ignored by Armin unless they matched his own.

Jean interrupted her thoughts by trying to _lap_ up the soup with his tongue, and before she could stop herself she learned across the table and slapped the top of his head.

“For Christ’s sake Jean!” She snapped, the guilt already setting in when he looked up at her with wounded eyes.

“Mekakasa? What was that for?” He sounded like a child, confused and hurt, and for a split instance she wanted to cry, wanted to start bawling here in this odd woman’s kitchen with Armin and Jean staring at her as if she was a stranger.

“Mikasa…” Armin said in a low tone, a hint of warning in his voice. She looked at him, the moment of vulnerability shored back by boiling anger.

“Well, I figured so anyway.” The lady spoke as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted by Jean and Mikasa. “As soon as I saw the panic in your faces when I said your friend needs to rest for some days. I knew you were in a rush on your travels.” Armin broke eye contact with Mikasa to look back at their host, and shame crept back. She glanced back at Jean, who apparently had completely forgotten about what had just happened and was happily lapping up his soup again.

“If it makes you feel any better, you would had already missed today’s train anyway by the time you came to me.”

Mikasa’s head snapped back to the lady, and Armin’s eyes widen.

“A-a train?”

The woman looked between then, clearly surprised by their reactions. “Well yes, the train. I assumed that’s why you were here? To catch the border train.”

_Border train_

The words were like magic, and optimism began to fizzle into Mikasa’s body.

Armin shook his head. “We hadn’t heard about such a trainline, we were just going to walk –“

The woman chuckled again, her attention firmly rooted on Armin. “What, walk to the border? That would take you nearly a month! You need to do more research before you plan a trip Armin! The border train will take you right to the Marley/Hizuru border within twelve hours.”

Mikasa felt her eyes widen. _Twelve hours?!_

Armin caught her eye, and they just stared at each other, daring the other one to believe the news first.

“Took some years to complete, and when it was opened some two years ago, you’d think the town was the center of the world.”

_Two years_

Of course, that’s why they hadn’t heard of it. It hadn’t been built when Falco had been here last.

“It’s not particular busy anymore. I think they’ll have to shut it by next year; it’s leaking money for the government, but they keep paying it because they hope it’ll bring more Hizurian people to Marley. Trying to repair bonds and so on.” She sniffed again. “But for better or for worse it’s still going. Leaves the town at midnight each night, stops at nearly every town from here to the border, and arrives at Hizuru at noon.”

Mikasa was trying to take the woman’s words in, but her mind kept replaying _“Twelve hours."_ That was a whole two months of the entire round trip they could slice away. _Two whole months._ Of walking and eating and sleeping and trying not to drive each other mad.

Twelve hours.

After half an hour, it was clear the woman had grown tired of their company, and in not so many words told them to head to bed. She eyed Mikasa’s full bowl and sniffed.

“My food not good enough for you girl?”

Mikasa blushed, and tried to maintain eye contact at the formidable woman. “Forgive me, I was not hungry.” She had decided that as long as Jean and Armin didn’t collapse from poisoning, it was no harm to be courteous to the woman. Armin had a point, even if they left where would they go?

She sniffed again, looking Mikasa up and down. “Well, you could do with being more hungry every once and a while you know.”

Mikasa nodded, and resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself, hiding her body from the woman’s gaze.

“Mikasa, could you give me a hand please.” Armin was trying to lift Jean out of his stool, and Jean was doing his very best to try and bury himself under the table.

Mikasa wasn’t sure if he had spoken up to save her or if he legitimately needed help, but either way she offered him a quick smile before she wrapped Jean’s other arm around her shoulder.

They were nearly by the door before the woman called. “Oh Armin, once you’ve deposited your friend, come back inside. I want to talk to you about something.”

Armin shared a look at Mikasa, as he stuttered an _of course._

“What does she want me for? I didn’t spill soup on the table or anything, did I?” Armin whispered to Mikasa, his face already growing pale.

Mikasa smiled but didn’t respond as they made the trek through the jungle outside. Truthfully she was still mad at Armin for revealing where they were headed, even though if he hadn’t they would probably never have found out about the train. But she knew if she brought it up, he’d bring up her slapping Jean, and she didn’t want to have that conversation with him.

They only managed to stumble into a bush once, and eventually made it to the shed. When Armin helped Jean down, Mikasa turned on the lamp in the center.

“Well… wish my luck.” Armin said hoarsely as he looked back towards the cottage. He gulped once and then was gone, swallowed up by the grass and bushes.

Mikasa shut the door behind him, and then unsure what else there was to be done, knelt down and then sat beside Jean.

He watched her with wide eyes, and there was something so childlike about him in this state that she looked away.

“Jean…” She picked at some straw on the wooden boards. “I’m sorry for hitting you before… at dinner.”

When he didn’t reply she looked back at him. He looked surprised, and tilted his head. “You hit me?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “At dinner. When you were trying to eat soup like a cat.”

He mirrored her expression. “Soup? When did we have soup Mekakasa?”

She scoffed softly. “It’s _Mikasa_. And either way, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened and… I’m sorry.”

He continued frowning, as if she was presenting him with a particularly hard puzzle. “Wait, what are you sorry for Mesaka?”

She tilted her head back and laughed. And it felt good to laugh. It wasn’t crying, but it was a release anyway. She allowed herself it, and it echoed across the shed, bouncing against the wooden walls. Jean was so far gone it was basically the same as laughing in front of a horse. It didn’t matter.

She stopped though when she felt gently tugging on her hair, and turned to see Jean holding a strand of her hair. She watched him run a finger down it’s smooth length, and he sighed contently.

“I’m glad you’re growing your hair out Mesaka. I always loved your hair long.” She watched him stare at the strand between his fingers as if it was the most precious thing in the world before he tried to taste it. She lightly tugged it from his grasp.

“Go to sleep Jean,” she said with a yawn. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept. At the path, but from the sounds of it it had been a… she thought for the word… _disruptive_ sleep.

“Are you sleepy Mesaka?” Jean asked, and he patted her head as if she was a cat. Perhaps she was feeding off his energy, but there was something she found hilarious about him petting her head as if she was a cat, and she laughed again. Maybe it was the idea of how absolutely mortified he’d be if he remembered any of this tomorrow.

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

“No Mesaka. I’m never tired.” Jean said, his eyes already closing.


	39. Chapter Thirty nine - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so so so much again for 4k hits 💖  
> Hope you all enjoy the chapter :)

_Jean_

Jean woke up with the realisation he was going to throw up. The second thing he noticed was that someone was asleep on his shoulder, and third was his ribs no longer were hurting half as bad as they had been previously.

Jean groggily blinked awake, trying to process each piece of information. He turned his head slowly, and saw Mikasa was the person with their head resting against his shoulder. Jean blinked again, as if expected her to disappear.

Mikasa… was asleep… on him?

The first realisation he had had that morning returned with a vengeance, and Jean suddenly knew he that if he didn’t move, he was going to throw up on Mikasa. Oh Christ. He was going to _throw up_ on _Mikasa._

His eyes widened with horror, and with slow, ginger movements he lifted her head off his shoulder. Of course, she woke up instantly, and of course she was immediately alert.

“Jean?” She asked, the slight note of grogginess the only indicated five seconds ago she had been in a deep sleep.

Jean was already crawling to the door, and gave her a shaking thumbs up, somehow knowing if he opened his mouth he would throw up.

He just managed to open the door before he retched, and after he looked down miserably at the remains of the soup he had a vague recollection of enjoying immensely.

“Oh Christ.” He groaned, resting his head against his hands as he remained crouching. He felt hungover, but the kind of hangover fresh coffee wouldn’t fix.

“How’s the comedown?” Armin patted his back kindly, and Jean groaned again, mentally promising himself never _ever_ to doubt the potency of random herb cream again.

***

Jean sat in the woman’s kitchen, staring morosely at the bowl of porridge placed in front of him. Ever so often he half-heartedly gave it a stir, but then he’d get a whiff of honey and oats and have to try and swallow down his nausea.

Beside him, Mikasa also seemed to be considering her bowl, but eventually she nibbled at a little spoonful.

Jean must have missed quite a bit last night, because this morning Armin and the witch-lady were suddenly the best of friends. She was describing the worst cases she had nursed back to health, and at first Jean thought she was talking about people which made him feel ill, but the he realised she meant rabbits and he felt _even more_ ill, because then he started thinking about all the rabbits he’d eaten throughout his life.

Jean stared down at his porridge as if it were to blame for his current state.

“Is he always like this?” The witch-lady pointed a spoon at Jean, and if possible his frown deepened.

“No-“

“Yes always.” Armin interrupted Jean, and became the one on the receiving end of his glare. “But he’s especially bad after his… comedown from yesterday.” Armin added quickly.

The witch-lady laughed. “Oh yes, I forgot about that. I’ve never seen someone try to lap up soup, it was the evening’s entertainment.”

Jean’s cheeks grew hot and he moved the glare back to his bowl of porridge again. He didn’t even want to _think_ about what else he’d done when he was off his head.

“Have you taken your cream today?” Her voice was back to it’s normal hardness, and Jean shook his head.

She sniffed. “Don’t worry, you won’t have any reaction like that again as long as you stay away from popping the pills on it.” She pushed the bowl under his nose. “Eat up. Your body needs energy to heal.”

***

The first call of order was a bath. The bathroom was a small room joined to the witch’s bedroom, consisting of a toilet, sink, dusty mirror and a large tub. There was a screen door off the bathroom, and she directed each of them to fill up a tub with water from her well, and once they were done empty it outside the door. She decided for them that Jean would go last as he would take the longest, and Mikasa should go first as she had the most work to get done that day.

When Armin appeared fresh faced and looking remarkably perky, he kindly informed Jean he had already filled up the bath and Jean thanked him with a smile. Even though his side was feeling a lot more healed, he didn’t want to push it too far by carrying buckets of water.

Although the water was absolutely freezing, it felt _so good._ He scrubbed layers of journey dirt from him, and emerged from the tub feeling like a new man. Cautiously he unscrewed the cream's lid, eyeing the ointment suspiciously. After yesterday's experience and today's hangover, he would much rather go without the ointment for another day or to.

But whether he liked it or not, he couldn't deny how efficient it had been. Even though he'd only been using it for less than 24 hours, his ribs were already considerably less painful. With a resigned sigh, Jean gently dabbed his side with the cream. He had no idea what she put into it, but it was something magical. Even as he applied it to his skin he could feel the burning ache ease, like water dampening flames.

He turned, glancing behind him at the scars which littered his back. He rarely noticed them anymore, but he couldn't help but wonder that he had scrubbed so much dirt and layers off had he managed to scrape them off too. No luck. The scars still decorated his back like a artist's careless paint splatter. Some could be forgiven to be mistaken as freckles they were so small, others slightly bigger and the largest ones around the size of his fingernails. The skin had long healed, but the scars still plagued his back, a flurry of darkened marks. A constant reminder of the Rumbling, of what had happened, of what he had _let_ happen.

He squeeze shut his eyes. What good was thinking about the past? What was it he always said? _What’s done was done long ago._

Jean lowered his shirt, and looked in the dusty mirror as he washed his hands. He looked so _different._ So much had happened, and he was sure it must’ve been at least a month since they left Paradis Island. His physical appearance argued with his mind, and he knew from the shadow of facial hair regrown in the time it had only been four or five days.

His hair still remained woefully short, and he scowled as he ran a wet hand through the stubble. He _hated_ having short hair.

The witch set the three of them to work, only in completely different areas. Mikasa was stuck in the garden because Armin had mentioned to the witch in passing she liked to plant at home. Jean couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the fire with which Mikasa glared at Armin when she heard it. But either way, she was still sent out with a pair of cracked gloves and a tub to pick some pea pods.

Jean was left in the kitchen, to sit in the only proper chair in the house and shelling the said peapods Mikasa would bring in periodically and empty into a metal strainer set on the table. Armin had gone with the witch to tend to some rabbits or something.

Jean had thought he knew boredom. He thought nothing would ever be as boring than the days he had spent as a glorified maid with the rest of the squad, with Captain Levi continuously breathing down their necks. He could even remember one afternoon, scrubbing the same damn floor for the fiftieth time, and thinking to himself, _Surely nothing is more boring as this._

He had not yet had the experience of shelling peas.

The only time something exciting happened was when Mikasa came in with more peas, but then he would realise that a) there were now more pods to be sorted through, and b) he couldn’t remember a thing he had done or said yesterday, but apparently at one stage he had tried to act like a cat.

Christ he was mortified.

At one stage she turned before she was leaving, looking at him blankly.

“What?” Jean shifted in the chair.

“Do you remember patting my head like a cat?”

“Oh my gosh _nooo.”_ Jean cried out, burying his head in arms. He groaned, the embarrassment too much to bear silently, and almost missed the snort of laughter from Mikasa as she left. Why had he been so obsessed with cats last night?!

That night they had a stew of broth and soaked bread and all the peas Jean had spent shelling. It was a nice meal no doubt, but he couldn’t help but feel for the amount of work they took, the peas were not worth it.

The witch let them go to bed early, but promised tomorrow would be similar to that day's. Jean groaned inwardly. Please not more peas.

They were settling into the hut when Mikasa crouched beside him. He had been (quite successfully he might add), avoiding looking at her since he learned he had _petted_ her, but raised his gaze from her feet.

She looked at him, and wordlessly handed him the coil of rope.

He glanced at it for a moment, before taking it and gesturing for her to hold out her wrists. He watched the dark ink of her tattoo become hidden behind loops of rope. He tried not to think as he bound her, but at one point he pinched her skin and she gasped.

“Sorry, did it hurt bad?” Jean laid his thumb against the red skin, trying to sooth it as the coldness of her radiating into him.

She looked down at her wrists, and softly shook her head.

He continued, and tied a double knot. Like before, he asked her to see if it was tight enough, and he watched as she strained against it before relaxing.

“Thank you Jean.” She murmured softly, still staring down at her wrists. She settled down, and then turned away from him, embracing her straw bed.

Jean looked over and met Armin’s gaze. He was frowning gently, and Jean knew he felt as uncomfortable with her bound as he did it. It felt _unnatural,_ and wrong. Not to mention dangerous. What if someone attacked them in the middle of the night? And Mikasa was there with her wrists tied together? Helpless.

But then what if the other thing happened? What if Mikasa attacked _them,_ like before? Jean grimaced at Armin to show he felt as uncomfortable with the whole thing as Armin did, but then shrugged, to show there was really nothing else to be done.


	40. Chapter Forty - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghh 49,100 words exactly! I've been waiting for an rounded figure like that every time I upload a chapter - and it's finally happened! 😂👏 It's the little things haha😅 Anyway hope ye enjoy this chapter! :)

_Armin_

Armin woke up to the sounds of a nightmare. Gasps and whimpers and half-sobs.

He bolted upright, immediately awake. Not again. He guess it was a good thing that Jean had restrained Mikasa, hopefully it wouldn’t be like last time when she could move and –

Armin blinked, his blue eyes meeting Mikasa’s grey one. She was sitting opposite him, her bound hands held in front of her.

“It’s Jean…” She whispered, “Should we wake him?”

Armin gaze slid to Jean’s slumped figure. Even as he watched him, Jean’s body shook and he cried out, curling further into himself.

It had been awhile since Jean had had a nightmare this bad. For the first two years or so of sharing a room, it was not an uncommon occurrence for one of them to wake the other up with their whimpers and cries from nightmares. Armin knew he was always much worse than Jean, for a period of maybe a year he woke up to Jean drowsily shaking him awake at least twice a week. Jean never had the same levels of nightmares, and after maybe six month he was able to sleep soundly through the night. That was as long as Armin didn’t wake him up with his nightmare.

Armin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s okay Mikasa. I’ll handle it.”

He scooted closer to Jean. It must have been nearly three years since the last time he had had to wake Jean up from a nightmare, but he could remember how to do it. From experience, he knew if he just tried shaking Jean awake, it would just end up panicking the sleeping Jean more and it would take longer for him to recover once he was awake. He did the method he had perfected over the years. Rubbing slow, methodic circles on Jean’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to reality.

Jean gasped again, his face contorted in a mixture of fear and horror.

“Jean.” Armin said slowly, applying some more pressure with his hand. He had always held a a deep level of reverence for Jean; at how quickly he had managed to handle his nightmares, how he managed to lock away the horrors he had witnessed. Move forward with his life. For all the plans and schemes he had thought up, Armin lacked that level of mental fortitude. The ghosts of his past haunted him in his sleep most nights.

“Jean..” He murmured again, pressing down even harder with his rubs. Jean gasped awake, his body immediately tensing up as he head twisted in all directions.

“Jean relax.” Armin spoke calming, pushing his hand down on Jean’s shoulder to stop him from getting up. A thin line of sheen covered Jean’s face, and Armin could feel how his heart was thumping, could hear how quickly he was breathing.

“Relax.” He spoke again, and Jean looked at Armin, finally seeming to recognise him.

“Armin?” He looked to his side, spotting Mikasa who had been watching the proceedings hugging her knees. “Mikasa? Where’s Marco…? We’re not back…?” He looked back at Armin, and then his gaze travelling across the darkened shed.

“Of course we’re not.” His voice was lower, and he sagged back against the straw again. He put it arm across his eyes, seemingly trying to calm his breathing. “No… that was eight year ago of course we’re not back there.” He murmured softly to himself.

Armin watched him for a moment. “I think it was the final punch of your drug bonanza comedown.”

Jean gave a half-snort, and Armin pretended not to see the tears that ran out from under his sleeve. “Some punch.”

There was another beat of silence in the shed, the only sound being Jean’s pants. “Sorry guys. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He muttered softly, and then grunted as he turned onto his side, away from both of them.

Armin met Mikasa’s gaze, and he realised that this must’ve been the first time she’d seen how bad their nightmares got. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with her wide eyes.

Armin gave her a half smile, and turned back to his own pile of hay. He could tell from all three of their breathing that none of them got to sleep for some time.

***

The next day followed a similar routine as the previous one. The three of them had breakfast with the lady, and then made their own baths. Jean had deep rings under his eyes, and was even less communicative than usual for the morning. He sat in sullen silence at the table, somehow managed to eat porridge in a bad-tempered manner. Mikasa nibbled at her meal, her gaze turn downwards at the bowl as she dodged all attempts at conversation.

Meaning that, as usual, it was left for Armin to make talk with the lady.

 _The lady._ He felt bad not knowing the name of their host, but at this stage it was almost too embarrassing to ask.

She was surprising chatty, or to him anyway. She had taken a special shine to him as soon as she saw him, and, when she had called him back after the first dinner, had asked him what he knew about rabbits.

Armin answered her truthfully; not a lot. But then she let the silence linger and he felt like he had to talk, so he did a Falco and just babbled without really thinking about what he was saying. He told her all about his family of geese, how he had hatched them and cared for them, and how they acted like pets around him. He broke off before he could go into more detail, his heart suddenly aching for them. For, as Jean liked to call them, his poultry cult.

She had watched him with her startling dark eyes, looking at him as if she was looking _into_ him, and after he had finished she just sat there. And then she nodded slowly, asking him if he would like to help feed the rabbits.

At breakfast that day she went into more detail about the family of foxes that hunted the rabbits; how twice a week or so she’d trek through the undergrowth where she knew their nests were, looking for anyone in need of some care.

She set them up to similar tasks as before, sending Mikasa out with the same gloves, only this time to collect potatoes, and leaving Jean at the table with a stubby knife and a plate to peal the potatoes with. Armin purposely avoided eye contact with both of them, as he could tell they were not at all pleased with their tasks, and followed the woman outside to the shed.

Like the day before, she and Armin fed each rabbit. She would pick them up, examining their wounds and explaining their injuries to Armin in a hushed voiced. She even let him hold Sootie, and the small rabbit burrowed against Armin’s shirt. She had laughed out another cackle when Armin had looked back at her with eyes wide with wonder. His fur was even softer than Armin had imagined.

When they had finally be reunited for dinner, Armin could tell he had had a much better day than his two friends. Jean was quietly steaming away in the corner, his hands full of tiny nicks from the knife. Mikasa looked wrecked, all but slumped at the table with her hair unusually messy with strands stuck to her forehead. The two of them ate their food silently, and, as always, it was up to Armin to take to their host.

Truthfully, he enjoyed her company. He knew Jean called her _the witch,_ and Mikasa was counting down the days until they could leave, but Armin liked her. She had a sharp sense of both wit and humour, and there was a fierceness to her he admired. She reminded him of a rod of metal that had been constantly bent throughout time but never changed shape.

After dinner, she announced that “the other two” could do the tidying up, and she and Armin would go check on the rabbits and give them their evening feed. Armin caught the look of disbelief on Jean’s face as he glanced at the pile of dirty dishes and cutlery which had clearly been piling up for quite some time, and then back to Armin.

Mikasa was already scrapping away the leftovers into a bowl like she’d been instructed, and Armin offered Jean a shrug before following the lady out of the kitchen. Sure he liked her, but there was absolutely no way he was going to argue with her. What she said, he did. And so while Mikasa and Jean slaved away at the kitchen, Armin fed Sootie and listened the lady talk about each rabbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the three - having a moment  
> The other two - time to bring out the wide, hand rubs 😔✋


	41. Chapter Forty one - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh what's Mikasa up to now 👀👀👀

_Mikasa_

That night, Mikasa didn’t ask either of the boys to bind her wrists. Instead, she sat, waiting for them both the fall asleep so that she could slip out.

Jean’s awful mood had persisted throughout the day, and he was currently sitting in the corner, like a thundercloud personified. He was rubbing at his hands, at the shallow cuts that decorated them.

He had somehow managed to continuously nick himself with the knife while pealing the potatoes, and it seemed each time Mikasa brought in a freshly dug armful of spuds he had persevered and added another collection to his cuts.

She hadn’t said anything, but had paused, watching as he clumsily tried to peel a potato. He was holding the knife wrong, she realised. His grip wasn’t correct. The knife was too loose, and as a result constantly slipped against the spud’s skin and dawked him instead.

He cursed bitterly, dropping the knife against the table and waving his hand in the air. He saw Mikasa, quickly looking away as his cheeks reddened.

“You know you’re holding the grip wrong. That’s why it keeps slipping.” Mikasa had said in her characteristically flat tone.

She had meant to intone that she could show him how to hold it correctly, but clearly something got lost in translation. Jean’s glower somehow grew, and he glared at her as he gripped the knife again.

“I don’t care.” He hissed, and she had turned and walked out before he could say another word. It was only when she was back elbow deep in dirt did she about what she had said. It had sounded like she was bragging. Like she was flaunting her ability with a knife, pointing out how awful Jean was with the instrument.

Mikasa had sighed as she rooted through the earth for a spud. She wished words came as easily to her as they did to Armin and Jean. Somehow, no matter how hard she tried to think about her words, she always came off sounding cold, cruel. Even as a child. She had learned quickly it was better to be silent, better to be mysterious than hated. That’s why she had always let Armin and Eren do the talking for her –

She had closed her eyes at that. _Eren._ It had been so long she had thought of him; at least four days. She couldn’t remember a time _ever_ when he wasn’t lingering within her thoughts at least once a day.

_Eren._

She had opened her eyes, her fingers feeling the tough exterior of a potato beneath layers of dirt. She imagined what he was doing that very second, somewhere in a jungle down south. He had no idea they were on their way to him. To bring him home.

And just like that, all thoughts of Jean dissolved within her, like bubbles gently bursting.

Until that evening. Mikasa watched him, knowing he’d go to sleep quickly. He always managed to sleep, no matter how pissed off he was.

Armin was a different matter. She knew he had had a relatively easy day in comparison to her and Jean’s, and he didn’t seem tired in the slightest. Her eyes followed him as he checked up on the rabbits, cooing gently at them.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Mikasa lay on her side, her eyes wide in the darkness. She gripped her wrist, her fingers wound around the thin joint. They were near raw. The skin ached gently from friction from the rope, and she could feel the chafed skin against her fingertips. Yet another reason she was glad she didn’t have to ask Jean to bind her wrists again.

The afterglow of a memory overtook her for an instance. She remembered how his fingers had skimmed the paper-thin skin of her inner wrists, how the warmth of his touch had seemed to bury itself into her bone. She gripped her wrist, this time not because it ached, but because she was sure she could still feel his heat. It was burrowed within her marrow, burning quietly within her coldness.

She closed her eyes and minutely shook her head. She must be sleep-deprived than she had thought. She listened for a moment, making sure both Armin and Jean’s breathing was deep, and finally sat up.

She moved stealthily towards the door. A crack of moonlight fell on straw and then darkness again. The only sign she’d left.

She blinked, allowing her eyes to acclimatise to the outside before she started moving. There was no path to follow, but she crept through the growth, carefully not to shake the bushes she passed.

Mikasa knew that the backdoor would be unlocked, but she raised a fist and rapped against the pealed wood.

She waited patiently, wondering for a moment if it was too late; if their host had already gone to sleep. Mikasa looked upwards as she waited. The sky stretched above her, the full moon already beginning to wane, another pale strip pealed away. It was a clear night, and the stars were startling bright, winking down at her as if they knew something she didn’t.

The door swung open, and the woman stood there. Silently she took Mikasa in. Her grey hair was loose and wild as always, and the lines weathered into her skin seemed especially deep from the shadows of night. She appraised Mikasa, and then sniffed, stepping to the side. “You better come in.”

Mikasa softly stepped into the cottage. The woman instantly slamming the door behind her and lead her into the kitchen. Even when she took a seat, Mikasa remained standing, her head bowed and her fingers rubbing subconsciously at her wrists, searching for the heat she knew was buried in them.

“Well? You want cream for your wrists?” The woman’s dark eyes missed nothing, and seemed to permeate through Mikasa, sifting through her thoughts in search of answers.

Mikasa shook her head, quickly moving her hands behind her back. “No, it’s not that-“

“I have some herbs which will help you put on weight and muscle. You will have to actually eat though for it to work.”

Mikasa felt her cheeks burn, and a hint of anger streaked through her.

“No. I need a sleeping draught!” She forced herself to look up at the host, into her dark gaze. “Please.”

The woman leaned back in her chair, seemingly reappraising Mikasa. “A sleeping draught?”

“Yes.” Mikasa’s fingers rubbed against her inner wrists. “I sometimes have trouble… sleeping. I sleepwalk. I would like something that could stop that; make sure I can’t move asleep.”

The woman didn’t say anything, and the silence seemed stretch. Mikasa fidgeted, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with her host.

After what must have been minutes, the woman stood. She picked up an empty vial from the counter and walked towards Mikasa, her eyes searching the haze of dried herbs above their heads. She stopped a few feet from Mikasa, and stretched upwards, snapping a stalk of something above them and carefully putting into the vial.

“This is devil’s beads. Take one of the seeds if you want to sleep uninterrupted for up to seven hours, take more than one if you want to sleep indefinitely.” She gestured for Mikasa’s hand, and placed the glass container in her palm. Her fingers stayed clutching the vial, and Mikasa could feel her nails begin to dig into her flesh. She looked up the woman.

“I’ll give it to you on one condition.”

"What?” She was suddenly feeling brave

“Answer this question. How did your friend hurt his ribs so badly?”

Mikasa didn’t break eye-contact, almost daring the woman to look into her mind, see what she could find.

“We were ambushed on the way here. Jean got the brunt of the attack before Armin and I had ran to help him.”

The woman stared at Mikasa with her dark eyes, before lifting her hand. Mikasa looked down, noticing little crescent marks dug against her palm from the woman’s nails.

“Interesting.” She spoke slowly, and then tapped one of her nails against the glass. “Like I said, _only_ one of the seeds with water before bed. Make sure you’re safe; because if something happens within those seven hours, there’ll be no waking you up. You’re are all but paralyzed in sleep for those seven hours. And don't take them continuously, night after night. Only on the odd occasion.”

Mikasa thanked her, gripping the vial, and went to leave.

“It’s interesting.” The woman called out to Mikasa when she was walkway through the overgrown garden. Mikasa turned back, and could see the woman’s silhouette outlined by the light of cottage. She was standing by the back door, her hand on the handle ready to shut it.

“When I first opened the door to you, Armin and the boy told me he tripped, and injured his ribs by falling off the path on the way here. Well goodnight.” She slammed the door, and the light that had been falling across the garden was gone.

Mikasa stood in darkness, frozen. She gripped the vial tightly, so tightly she was worried she might crack it. But she couldn't unclench her fingers, couldn't _unfreeze_ herself.


	42. Chapter Forty two - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What went down in the Rumbling, and Jeankasa fluff.  
> The bad, and then the good

_Jean_

Even two days later, Jean’s nightmare still managed to reverberate through him. It had been so long since he’d had one last, he'd forgotten the intensity of those night terrors. He had forgotten their nature; how they clawed into the mind, staying present even in daytime.

He had relived it all. That day they faced Eren. The day they stopped the Rumbling.

The mountains of Colossal Titans walking towards them, the devastation that they left in their path. And then later, fighting actually on Founding Titan’s skeleton. On Eren. It was like he was back there, back in the battle. The jaws of all the past titans who had ever been, open wide and snapping. Bertolt’s Titan reaching for him; a titan with the face of distorted cow running towards him, a War Hammer Titan aiming an arrow at him.

Most of all he saw it happen all over again, and just like every other time he was helpless to stop it. He heard Reiner’s screams, too late to transform as he was ripped apart. He saw Annie, rush to save him, only to be impaled on a War Hammer’s spike. He could hear her shocked gasp, see the way her fingers scrambled to push herself off it. Watched as she bit her hand, bit it was too late, too late for her.

The War Hammer lance shattered from her energy, and Jean had been frozen, too shock to react as he watched her bloody body fall between the ribs. Fall away.

Sense came too late to use his ODM gear, but just quick enough to save him. He turned, ducking his head between his arms as thousands of projectiles from the fractured War Hammer lance flew towards him.

Even though the wounds had long healed, on nights like that he swore he could still feel the echo of the pain. The feeling of a hundred shards impaling themselves into him, ripping through his flimsy shirt and burying themselves into his back.

And then the pain was gone, his brain finally kicking into gear and burying it under adrenaline and fear. He straightened, vaguely aware of the feeling of a thousand nails embedded into muscle. 

And he had just been standing there, frozen. Like the stupid, fucking idiot he was. Too stunned to move, too shocked that somehow the larger shards had missed him, that he was still alive while Annie and Reiner had been killed right in front of him.

He was frozen. And it was all his fucking fault. What happened next. It was his fault. And he had to live with it.

Because he heard the shout, and something collided with him. He had stumbled on the rib, nearly losing his balance but just managing not to. He turned to see a titan’s head fall by his feet, it’s mouth still clenching at air.

And then he saw Connie, Connie who had saved him, Connie who had rescued him when he was frozen in the middle of a battle, Connie who had sliced the titan’s neck so clear he had decapitated it. Connie who had pushed him out of the way. Connie who had sped past Jean, up and past the side of a large rib, flying in the air, his ODM gear taunt with force as he moved.

And he watched, just like he had done a hundred times before in his dreams, as Connie laughed, his momentum slowing down. He was shouting to Jean, about how he needed to be more careful, how Connie had saved his skin yet again, but not for Jean to go make a habit of it. And Jean remembered how Connie went to throw another line to the rib to bring him back. And he watched as the gear stuck, jammed, and he was scrambling, running, going to save Connie but it was too late and it was too late and Connie was falling and falling and Jean was too late to save him, too slow to stop him from being trampled by Eren’s rumbling.

Truthfully, Jean couldn’t really remember what happened after that. The time between Connie falling and watching the Titans’ finally crumble away was a blur, a time of madness where moments ran too fast together to take in.

He could remember his body aching from the shrapnel and something far worse and him flying through the air and the knowledge that it had all been for nothing, everything. Marco had died for nothing. Erwin had died for nothing. Sasha had died for nothing. Connie had just died for nothing. It had been pointless; it had all been so _fucking pointless._ Everyone had lived for nothing, and they would die for nothing, and Eren would win because Eren always won; he always survived when everyone else died for him, he always got what he wanted, and even if he didn’t want her, he still got her heart.

And if Jean was going to die, he might as well take out as much as these fucking titans as he could; each one a distorted extension of Eren’s soul.

It was around then he normally woke up, but like Armin said, the nightmare was the final punch of his comedown, and it wouldn’t give him up that easily.

It melted, reforming, and he was back on the island. He was watching Marco’s last moments, picturing it the way Reiner had told it. It was only when Marco’s scream had started gurgling with blood had Armin finally woken him.

And even though it was two days later and he was stuck, yet again in a witch’s kitchen, he could still feel the echo of fear reverberate through him, the pain of seeing them all die again burrowing into his heart.

Mikasa came in with another batch of pea pods, and Jean was pulled back to reality, dragged from his thoughts. Mercifully no more potatoes today. Instead, Jean was back shelling the peas, with the extra addition of washing some spindly but vibrant carrots.

“Armin and our host are heading to the train station to buy our tickets for tonight. I’ve been instructed to help you cook. We’re eating in three hours.” Mikasa said, her voice as flat as ever.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Help _me_ cook? Since when was I cooking.”

“Since five minutes ago. Shell these while I start the recipe.” Mikasa dumped her armful of peas in front of Jean, and bent over two sheets of paper left on the counter.

Jean watched her as she mouthed the ingredients to herself, before turning back to the table and getting to work.

Despite having lived together for eight years, Mikasa and Jean surprisingly hardly ever cooked together. _The cooker was too small_ was the reason Mikasa gave. _Mikasa is a control freak_ was the reason Jean gave.

It gave him such joy that she _couldn’t_ refuse his help; it was physically impossible for one person to do all the pealing and cutting and simmering and sautéing and frying in just three hours, no matter how hard Mikasa tried to do it.

It turned out that the sheets of recipe left out was actually _two_ separate recipes, and one was for dinner and the other for a packed lunch for them to bring with them on the train. The dinner meal plan was similar to the soup they had a few days previous; the lunch recipe some sort of filled bread rolls.

Mikasa immediately got to work on the bread, and then set Jean cutting the carrots and a few potatoes left over from yesterday. He could feel her eyes on him, could feel the pure _desperation_ radiating off her as she watching him haphazardly chop up the vegetables. He made sure that all the chunks were different sizes, specially for her.

After maybe an hour, Jean was set on washing up duties while Mikasa made the paste for the bread. She stood beside him, and he watched her fingers deftly press the blunt side of a knife against beans. Tiny explosions of red paste burst out of each one.

“So what do you think of her? The witch I mean.” Jean asked, suddenly paranoid that Mikasa had caught him watching her.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s difficult to read. But if nothing else she provided us with that cream, and your ribs seem to be well on the mend. I would be showing her a little bit more respect than calling her a ‘witch’ Jean.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Would you? So what exactly would you be calling her then? Anything other than her name is the height of disrespect, you know Mikasa.” Jean teased, knowing full well Mikasa had as much clue about her name as he did.

He watched, feeling very self-satisfied to notice the tinge of red in her cheeks. “Fine, you got me there. It is weird though how much of a shine she’s talking to Armin, don’t you think? I don’t think she even knows our two names, but she immediately asked Armin what his was. Almost as soon as she saw him.” Jean knew Mikasa was just trying to steer the conversation away the witch’s name, but he allowed it.

“Well I mean, he _was_ the most approachable out of us in the moment. I was pretty much unconscious for nearly all of our first meeting with her.”

Mikasa paused, her knife pressed against the back of a full bean. She considered his words. “So you’re saying Armin was the most approachable, only because you were out of action?”

Jean smiled cockily. “Well, if that’s the connotations you get from what I said, sure, I guess you’re right.”

“So, what you’re also saying then is that if you’re the most approachable, and then Armin is a close second-“

“I never said _close-“_

“Fine, Armin is second. Does that mean then, that the _connotation_ is I am the least approachable out of us?” Mikasa asked him, a tug on her eyebrow.

Jean flicked the soaping water with his index finger, and a flew spots of water flew onto Mikasa’s face. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“And you just put water in mine!” Mikasa instantly retaliated, flicking one of the empty bean husks at him. It hit his cheek and dropped into the sink’s water.

He looked at her, his mouth open in shock. “ _Mikasa!_ That’s _cleaning_ water!”

He made sure to sound as mock-outraged as possible, and watched as Mikasa laughed. She tilted her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as the laugh bubbled out of her, and Jean realised how long it had been he had last hears her laugh. He was more than a little proud it had been because of him. Hey, _bean._

He looked down at all the empty husks of beans on the counter, and snorted. He was just a complete comedian this evening apparently.

And without realising it, just like that, the final residue of the nightmare was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My babies falling in love without even realising it :')


	43. Chapter Forty three - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the old witch's past is revealed...

_Armin_

Armin wasn’t completely sure how to break the bad news to the other two. He had planned to wait until boarding the actual train to tell them, but their host (who Armin _still_ didn’t know the name of) clearly had other ideas.

They arrived home, and he was amazed to see Jean and Mikasa actually coexisting in the kitchen together. More than coexisting actually; they were a cooking team.

The rolls were currently baking away, and the evening's soup was on the boil. The kitchen was filled with a wonderful mixture of aromas; vegetables and broth battled against sweet bread and something tangy Armin couldn’t quite put his finger on.

What was perhaps even more amazing were Jean and Mikasa. Jean was stirring the soup and every so often seasoning it while Mikasa was drying up. They worked in a comfortable, almost soothing, kind of quite. It was so far removed from the usual agitated, tension filled silence that prevailed when the two of them tried to cook together he wondered if it really were Mikasa and Jean.

It was only seven, but they ate the dinner early so Armin could say a final goodbye to the rabbits and they could ensure they got seats together on the train. Mikasa ladled the soup into four bowls and handed them to Jean to set down on the table.

“Did you you get the tickets alright Armin?” Jean said, amazingly upbeat.

Armin nodded, not quite meeting his friend’s gaze. “Yes, all good.”

The woman watched Armin with her dark eyes. “Anything else you would like to add to that Armin?”

Armin fidgeted in his chair, really wishing she hadn’t spoken. Jean was sitting opposite him, an eyebrow raised as Mikasa came over with her bowl.

“Umm…” Armin forced his gaze up, but ended up looking just above Jean’s head. “Well, the good news is we have three tickets on the border train, leaving at midnight tonight which will deliver us right to the border tomorrow at noon.”

“And the bad news?” He looked over at Mikasa, catching her eye.

“The bad news they were more expensive than I thought they would be. As in forty coins for a ticket.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Jean croaked out an “each?”

Armin nodded. “So –“

"120 coins in total.” Mikasa finished the sentence for him.

That was nearly exactly a third of their full budget. From the blush that warmed Jean’s cheeks, he knew they were all remembering how his medicine took up another 100 coins. 220 coins gone, even before they crossed over to Hizuru. Well over half their budget.

“I mean, it’s not the end of the world. I’m sure we can find some job in Hizuru for a week or two and save some coins back up.” Armin offered meekly. Jean gulped, and then nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I think it’ll be sowing season around now; we’ll surely be able to find –“

“I’ll pay for your ticket Armin.” The woman’s voice cut through Jean’s, and all three of them turned and watched as she sipped on her soup.

She looked up, feeling their gaze. “Well eat up. You’ve been slaving over the soup and you are just letting it go cold!”

Armin was already shaking his head. “No. I mean thank you so much for the offer but no way. I can’t take your money! I mean,” he gestured to the his companions around the table, “you’ve basically given us bed and board for free for the last four days. No.” He shook his head again for emphasis. “No, thank you but I can’t accept.”

The woman sniffed and stood, making her way to the cabinet. The three of them watched as she fished out the bag of money they had given her from behind some plates. She emptied some of the coins, counting them out, and then closed the bag. She then walked over to Armin, dropping the bag of money in front of him. They made a significant metallic jingle as they fell against the table.

“Here.”

Armin looked at her, his eyes wide. “I told you, I _can’t accept._ Thank you so much, but you’ve done so much for us already it’s –“

“Consider it payment for all the help you’ve given me with the rabbits.” She spoke as if she was already tired of the conversation, and went back to the cabinet. “You know Sootie will miss you when -“

“Why are you doing this?” The question burst from Armin. It had been building up for the last several days, the gratefulness mixed with confusion.

“I mean, why are you helping us? Why are you helping _me?”_ Because it was startling clear to everyone in the room that Armin was the one she had taken an interest in, Armin who she allowed to hold her precious rabbits, Armin who just so happened to have two friends tagging along who she permitted to stay, Armin who's ticket she wanted to pay for.

She still didn’t turn to face them, but let out a dry cackle. “What, can’t an old woman like myself do something kind once in a while without suspicion?” There was a note of humour in her voice, and Armin tried to work out how old she really was. Her grey hair and deep wrinkles added years, but under it all there was a youthful element to her body, to her spirit. He realised she was mid-sixties if that.

She sighed then, picking up one of the photos on display. “Well, I suppose it wasn’t completely altruistic of me.” She held the framed photo, and her finger gently running over the image.

“Truthfully, Armin, you remind me of my son.”

Armin could tell Jean and Mikasa were frozen, all three of them hanging off her words.

She turned, and handed Armin the photo. “This is the last photo of him I have. He’s with his friends.”

Armin held the photo gently, his eyes talking in the smiling child she was pointing to. Even though the quality was blurred, he could see the resemblance; the dark eyes, the thin lips and pointed chin.

“Of course, you don’t have similar looks. But there’s a familiarity in your soul Armin.” Armin felt his cheeks warm at the intimacy of her language. For some reason he didn’t want to look up, and instead focused his attention on the other three children in the photo.

“When you called out for me to help your friend, the desperation in your voice. It reminded me so much of him.” The girl standing to the left of her son was pale, her blonde hair almost seemingly white in the photo’s lighting. She was smiling softly, her light eyes almost hidden behind wisps of her fringe.

“He would’ve done anything for his friends. He loved them more than he valued his own life.” She sighed with grief, and Armin moved onto the next figure. The girl to the right of her son unfortunately was difficult to make out. The photo had clearly been folded and creased, and she was situated right on a fold. Her features were hidden behind damaged paper, but he could just make out dark hair tied up around a round face.

“You reminded me of him, of his gentleness and his love for others.” Armin moved his gaze onto the last figure, and almost dropped the photo. His mouth dried, and he tried to swallow. He could feel Jean and Mikasa’s eyes on him, noticing the change.

_It couldn’t be. Surely not._

Armin didn’t lift his gaze from the photo. His hands shook, but he remained staring at the last figure. There, considerably shorter and younger, was a smiling child, his arm thrown around the girl beside him.

It was Falco.

She sniffed, reaching out for the photo. “My poor Udo. He loved his friends and died for them. He’s been gone nearly nine years now. Nine years ago since those Island Devils attacked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Finally some answers at last!  
> Also very off topic, but does anyone have a definite date for when the next manga chapter is being released? As in not leaks, the official chapter? I tried googling but I kept getting different dates as the answer :// thank you!  
> ******* edit - MANGA SPOILERS IN COMMENTS********  
> Enter at your own risk! 👀


	44. Chapter Forty four - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the response on the last chapter and your answers, I'll have to get reading that chapter!(even though I'm definitely not slightly putting it off because I definitely wont cry reading it)  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter :)

_Armin_

Armin handed the photo over, trying to hide his tremors. His mind felt frozen, unable to function.

“I’m sorry for your lost.” He forced the words out, still not meeting her eye. Because he knew _._ He knew all about them from Falco. The sweet Zofia with skin so pale she burnt even if the sun was hidden behind the clouds and the clever Udo, who could easily translate even the most complex sentences. The clever Udo, who had been almost been saved by Colt along with Gabi, but had broken away, trying to save Zofia. The clever Udo, who had been trampled to his death.

“We were refugees, you understand.” The woman continued her story, seemingly too preoccupied with the photo in her hands to notice the tension that now filled the room. “My husband was immediately drafted into the navy when we were brought to Marley. He was on the docks, preparing the battleship when the Colossal Titan arrived. Of course, there was no body left, but I kept hope for so long. That he had been redeployed to another port; that he had gone to meet me instead. But of course, none of it was true, it was just useless hope.”

Armin clasped his hands together, the nails biting into his skin. He couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Time and time over the devastation he caused returned to him, ghosts in his peripheral vision. Reminding him of what he had done, what he had committed.

“Our house was bombed by the Island Devils. I’m not sure why they did it, it was only a small apartment; not much of a threat to their island. But I suppose they had their reasons. Luckily I always kept this photo on me, it’s the only photo I have left of Udo now.”

It was because of them. Because Eren had destroyed the building, blasting chunks of rocks everywhere and crushing hundreds, including Zofia. Because Armin had transformed and given himself over to maximum destruction. Because they had all swept in, throwing bombs left right and center. It was all because of them.

She looked up then, her dark eyes taking all three of them in.

“Armin, look at me please.”

He slowly raised his eyes to hers. He could tell that Mikasa and Jean were equally as horrified as he was, their head bowed.

He looked her in the face, her weathered skin and thin lips and eyes hidden deep under thick lashes.

“You’re not from Marley, are you?” Her voice was surprisingly soft.

Armin shook his head.

“You’re from the Island, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“How old were the three of you? When Eren Yeager and the Island Devils attacked Marley.” Her eyes never left his, their darkness demanding his honesty.

“Nineteen.”

She nodded her head slowly. “Nineteen.” She repeated it softly, before her intensity returned.

“Where the three of you soldiers?”

Armin paused, his eyes briefly travelling to the other two. Jean was staring down at his soup, but Mikasa was watching Armin. He could see she had buried herself away, her face blank and expressionless as her eyes met his gaze.

He looked back at their host and nodded, but then forced himself to speak.

“Yes.”

“So eight years ago the three of you were soldiers for the Island?”

Armin clenched his jaw.

“Yes.”

“Sent to fight Marley?”

“Yes.”

She sniffed, nodded slowly.

“I thought so. Well,” she paused, finally breaking eye contact to look down at her meal, “don’t let your soup get cold.” She picked up her spoon and began to eat, as if they had just finished a conversation about the weather.

All three of them stared at her, their mouths open. Armin couldn’t even _think,_ couldn’t even process her reaction.

When she noticed all three of them watching her, she looked back somewhat annoyed. “You spent all those hours slaving in the kitchen, using up _my_ ingredients, and you’re not even going to finish your bowl of soup?!”

“What – Why-?” Armin paused, unsure what question he was going to ask. “Wh-“

With a rather aggrieved sniff, she put her spoon down. “What?”

Armin stared at her, his mind overflowing with one simple question, _Why aren’t you angry._

When he opened his mouth though, a different question came out.

“How long had you known. You said _I thought so._ How – how did you figure it out?”

She laughed, and it was such an unexpected noise that all three of recoiled from the sound.

“I knew from the moment that girl handed me a bag of payment. Filled with Marlian currency and then a single Island coin.”

All eyes turned to Mikasa, and although her empty expression remained, Armin could see her pale.

“You should start being more careful girl with coins.”

“So you knew…” Armin said slowly. “You knew all this time, all along who we are, _what we did,_ and you just… let us stay?” His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of it.

She looked at him, her expression softening. “Didn’t you listen to a word I said before? You reminded me of my son.”

Armin looked back at her, and to his shame he could feel the pin-prick burning of tears forming.

“But… But I’m not anything like your son. I-“ He gulped, his breathing becoming shallow, “I’ve done such awful things. I’ve _killed_ people, more people than it should be possible for a man to kill. Your son was good and kind and innocent and pure, and I’m-“ He shook his head, “I’m-“

He never got to finish the sentence, because suddenly the woman had stood up, and was enveloping him in an embrace. And just like that it was over. Armin sobbed against her, his body shaking with his tears.

He was vaguely aware of their host, the woman he was crying against who he didn’t even know the damn name of, ordering Mikasa and Jean to finish their soup in the shed.

He didn’t take any of it in. All he felt was the torrent of emotions wash through him, the grief for all the people he never knew and never would know because they had been extinguished; their entire lives forfeited by a single drop of his blood.

And he mourned them with the woman who each of them had ruined, who he had widowed and Jean’s squad had left homeless and Eren had left childless.

The woman who embraced him.


	45. Chapter Forty five - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol the first part was written on Valentine's Day while listening to "Nobody" by Mitski, only the slowed down version.   
> You may be able to tell😂  
> Also, I've just reached 100k on this story! I've decided I'm setting a goal for myself - have the story finished and uploaded by the time the manga is finished (so April 9th ish). I really don't want to be influenced by the canon ending, so I think I'm just going to try and plough through the rest of this story - I've had a few questions on estimated length, and I'm aiming for around 100 chapters, give or take.  
> Hope ye enjoy this chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa's touch starved :(

_Mikasa_

They were silent in the shed, the only sounds being the soft movements of the rabbits around them.

Mikasa held her soup in both hands, but didn’t go to eat any of it. Her eyes lingered on Jean, who was slouched in the corner, morosely sipping at his bowl.

She couldn’t believe she had been that stupid, that reckless. How had she missed an Island coin? She had purposely gone through the bag, sifting through silver chips and fishing out the few Island coins left in it. How had she missed one?! How had she been that careless.

But she knew how she had been that careless. As her gaze rested on Jean, she remembered him on the table, being examined by the woman. The way pain had wracked through his body, the way he had lost himself and his actions beneath the haze of agony.

Most of all she remember the way his hand had grabbed her wrist, his fingers clenching around her. It had hurt, his grip burned and seared against her skin.

But she hadn’t tried to free herself; she had just stared at his hand. Not even when his fingers went pale from squeezing so hard, not even when she lost feeling to her own fingers.

Because she had realised it was the most someone had touched her in a very long time.

Even just thinking the thought brought heat to Mikasa’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze from Jean.

She hadn’t realised how much she missed, how much she had _longed_ for the physicality of touch, the presence of someone else against her skin. She had become like ice. She had frozen herself from everyone, and it wasn’t a process of just the last eight years, it had started long, long before that.

She had turned herself to ice, and anyone who touched her felt the cold radiant from her. And people stopped touching her. Carla stopped giving her hugs and Eren stopped tousling her hair and Armin stopped hanging off her arm and it went on and on and on.

She had realised that as she stared at Jean’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, and a part of her wondered if even though the pain could he feel her coldness.

The woman had finished her examination and degree by degree, second by second, Jean returned to his senses. She remembered the way he eased his fingers away from her touch, and how each digit had left it’s own tiny red shadow. Momentary fire burnt into her skin.

So yes, of course she had been detracted when counting out the coins, _of course_ she had allowed herself to be careless, to put all their lives at risk. Because she was still thinking about fingers and touch and ice and fire and _longing._

“She’s right you know; doesn’t taste half as nice cold as it does hot.”

Mikasa started at Jean’s voice, silently cursing the blush that only deepened. Luckily, it was too gloomy in the shed for him to notice the colour streaked across her face.

“Huh?”

“Your soup.” He pointed with his spoon. “You should eat.”

And because drinking soup was better than thinking of either Jean’s touch or Armin’s tears, she drank it, every lukewarm drop.

***

The woman walked them to the train station. It was just past ten, and the night had long descended onto the village. Mikasa had packed the rolls, and even though there were tucked away in her satchel she could still feel the gentle heat they gave off warming her back.

Considering it housed the start of the famed trainline, the village was surprisingly small. Farmhouses dotted the street, a shop here and there, a horse cart tied up by a post. There was something touchingly simplistic about the place, and Mikasa could understand why their host had chosen this to be her new home.

After a short walk they reached the station, a lone platform with a concession stand. The train stood waiting, already a thin line of smoke emerging from it’s engine. Even in the darkness Mikasa could make out the train’s grandeur. Windows lined it, splitting a yellow line painted across it’s red sheen. The engine was closest to her, and she admired the size of it’s wheels, the way they held up it’s elongated snout.

Armin cleared his throat, drawing Mikasa’s attention back to the group.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything. For helping Jean and for-“

“Jean?” The woman looked at Armin, her gaze slowly moving to Jean, “Oh, so that’s your name. I thought it was Mick.”

For a beat all three of them just stared at her. “I mean, she’s _Mik_ asa?” Jean said, a touch of incredibility as he pointed at Mikasa.

“Oh.” The woman looked at Jean, and then sniffed. “Well I’m glad your ribs are feeling better John.”

Mikasa watched as Jean bit back his retort, and smirked at him. “Thank you for all your help.” He said graciously.

Her dark gaze turned to Mikasa, and although she didn’t speak, Mikasa knew what she saying to her. Reminding her of the Devil’s Beads, the dangers they pose. Mikasa nodded her head minutely, in both understanding and thanks.

After what seemed far too long for Mikasa’s liking, the eyes that seemed to bore into Mikasa finally turned to Armin, and softened.

“Remember to write letters, when you’re finally home.” She raised a hand and placed it against Armin’s cheek. It was such a tender movement that Mikasa instantly looked away, feeling like she was intruding.

“Of course.” Armin’s voice was soft. “Thank you again, for everything. You really…” He paused, searching for the words that escaped him. “You are a good person.”

She tutted gently. “People really haven’t shown the three of you a lot of kindness in your lives, have they?”

Mikasa could feel her searching gaze on her, and looked up, meeting the dark eyes. The woman looked over all three.

“The three of you must learn to forgive. I can see each of you carry hatred in your hearts, each of you carry memories of the past close to your heart. You must learn to forgive yourself,” her gaze flickered to Armin, “forgive those who have wronged you,” her eyes on Jean, and then finally onto Mikasa, “and forget those long gone.”

Before any of them could react to her words, she had turned and begun to walk away. “I need to make sure Sootie hasn’t torn off his leg bandages again. Farewell and safe travels.” She raised a hand above her but didn’t turn around.

All three of them watched her figure grow smaller, merging into the darkness.

For a moment, each of them seemed too stunned to move from the spot.

Jean cleared his throat. “Wow… The wit- I mean our host certainly knows how to say goodbye.”

Mikasa watched Armin, his gaze still focused on the point where she disappeared into the evening shadows.

“Magna. Her name is Magna.” He said, his voice soft against the gentle night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone get the very very (as in extremely) vague reference to Dylan Thomas' poem in the final line?👀  
> Also ahhh! Wow!!!! I can't believe we're now at 5000 hits!!! And over 300 comments!!! Honestly thank you so so so much, I can't fully put into words how grateful I am for all the support :') As always double upload in celebration! This chapter kinda closes off a section, and the next one begins a new part of their adventure, so it felt right to leave this one alone. But double update for the next two chapters, as they do go together :) Again thank you so much!!!💖💖💖


	46. Chapter Forty six - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of the promised double upload🥰 This is the longest chapter yet - 2000 words odd, and this and the next one are just Armin/Mikasa/Jean interacting as their own little family on travels. Hope you guys enjoy! And thanks again for 5000 hits 💖

_Jean_

They seemed to be the only passengers getting on at the town, and chose a little booth of four seats in one of the first carriages.

Jean was amazed at the plushness of the interior, the soft, upholstered chairs covered in rich red material, the round wooden tables in all the booths, the large, spotless windows to gaze out of. He supposed though that they certainly had paid for it.

Even though all three of their moods were introspective with a touch of forlorn, Jean noticed that Armin couldn’t help but cheer up with the prospect of travelling through so much countryside; witnessing so many new places.

He had shyly asked if any of them minded if he got a window seat, and then all but threw himself down. Jean had sat beside him, and Mikasa opposite, her face as blank as ever.

At exactly midnight, the train began to shudder to life, the sound of it’s engine growing. It let out a wheeze, as if an old donkey gathering the energy to pull his carriage once last time. And then they were off.

Jean peered past Armin, but couldn’t make out anything other than vague outlines of trees against the darkness. His gaze slid from the view to Mikasa next to it. She was gripping the hand rests with fingers white from pressure, and her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Mikasa?” Jean asked, drawing Armin’s attention to their companion too. He knew they both were thinking the same. What if she was going into another trance?

But then she cracked open one eye, her face somehow so much paler than usual. “The motion, it’s –“ She raised a hand against her mouth, and he could see she was fighting the instinct to throw up; an action currently very fresh in Jean’s mind.

“You’re facing against the direction of travel Mikasa. It might help if –“

“Here.” Jean was already standing. “I don’t get motion sickness - swap seats with me.”

She didn’t move for a moment, but than stood up with delicate, jerky movements. She gripped the table, and even though it was less than a meter between the two chairs she moved slowly, edging forwards.

Jean watched her, split between concern and amusement at her reaction to travel. How could someone so skilled with the ODM gear, who made it seem like they were a bird in flight when they were up in the air, be so sensitive to the clumsy movements of boat and train?

There must have been a kink in the rails because the train bounced somewhat and Mikasa nearly lost her footing. Without thinking Jean reached out, catching her elbow before she could fully lose her balance.

Her eyes remained squeezed closed, but he thought he had a murmured thanks before she finally dropped into the chair. Wordlessly Jean took the window seat opposite Armin, and caught his eye. A sly smile tugged on Armin's lips as he raised an eyebrow. Jean rolled his eyes, pretending to ignore Armin’s expression by returning his attention to Mikasa. She had been rummaging through her bag, and was currently drinking some water. He guessed Armin must’ve been right about sitting against the motion of travel, because she definitely was looking the slightest bit less peaky in the new seat.

“I’m going to go to sleep for awhile,” she said to the two of them, and even as Jean watched she stretched, yawning. “I’m pretty tired so it’ll… it’ll be for a while…” Her voice drifted away as her eyes gently shut.

For a moment both Armin and Jean looked at her, her head rested against the seat.

“I have never known Mikasa to get to sleep so quickly.” Jean broke the silence first, his voice soft and low.

Armin shrugged. “I mean it is pretty late. And Magna didn’t exactly have the two of you relaxing and lolling in the sun for the last few days. Mikasa’s been wrecked everyday from all the planting she’s had to do.”

Jean nodded, and opened his mouth to talk about their host, _Magna her name is Magna,_ but then decided it against it. He knew if he brought her up Armin’s mood would instantly grow solemn. And anyway, now that he thought of it, he was pretty tired too.

“I think I’ll take a page out of Mikasa’s book and take a quick nap.” Jean yawned. “Wake me up when it’s dawn will you? I want to see the countryside we pass.” He knew without asking Armin would stay awake the whole journey, too afraid he would miss something outside the window he barely blinked.

In the end, Jean didn’t get waken at dawn. He got woken around three hours before by Armin dropping a hardback on his foot.

“Arghgh-“ Jean jerked awake, blinking profusely as he tried to work out what was happening. Opposite him, Armin was scrambling and clutching a book to his chest, looking back at Jean.

Pain radiated from his right toes, and Jean ran a hand across his face. “Wha-?” He tried to ask, but again it came out as an accumulation of vowel sounds.

“I’m so sorry Jean, my book was on my lap and I thought I saw something outside so I stood up and…” Armin gestured to his friend’s foot. “I guess it must’ve slipped off my lap and landed on your foot.”

Jean scowled, still not saying anything but leaning down to massage his toes. He took a deep breath, and tried to rid himself of his usual half-asleep grumpiness.

“That’s some book you must have Armin.” He said, only slightly in jest.

Armin smiled, looking down at the book. “Yeah. Magna loaned it to me last night. It’s on the healing properties of herbs. It’s very interesting.”

Jean nodded, very much hoping Armin did not do a Falco and talk his ear off about little dried twigs. Luckily for him, Armin had slightly more restrain, and looked back Jean, smiling somewhat self-consciously.

“Sorry for waking you, you can go back to sleep now.”

Jean stretched upwards, his joints cracking. “Nah, no point now. I’m awake anyway.” His gaze moved from Armin to Mikasa, who was currently asleep against Armin, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Is she still asleep?”

Armin nodded. “She must be in some deep sleep. She’s barely moved in the last four hours. Watch.” He held up a hand in front of her face and snapped his fingers. Jean watched in amazement as she didn’t even move a muscle.

“She really is asleep, isn’t she.” He said, a little bit of awe in his voice. He had never known Mikasa to sleep this deeply, even during their time as cadets. She had always been a light sleeper, instantly awake at any sound.

He was still looking at her when he noticed Armin’s expression watching him.

“What?!”

Armin shrugged, and Jean couldn’t help but noticed the jostle didn’t even rouse Mikasa. “Nothing nothing.”

He was smiling in a way he had perfected over the years. It was the smile that meant he knew something that Jean didn’t. It was also the smile he knew drove Jean up the wall.

“Armin if you have something to say just say it.” Jean said, reacting in just the way they both they knew he would.

“No nothing nothing.” He looked away, but then smirked when he noticed how aggravated Jean was becoming.

“Armin I swear to –“

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice on our first evening at Magna’s, when she talked to me after dinner and you and Mikasa went back to the shed...”

Jean took a deep breath through his nose. Armin really knew how to wind him up. “Armin if you don’t get to the point…”

“Well,” Armin said slowly, very much enjoying the conversation. “When I returned to the shed, I noticed how you two were asleep…” He let his voice trail away, watching to see if Jean remembered it.

“Armin you know full well I was high off my head for basically that entire day, apparently I tried to lap up soup so if you’re just going to tell me more embarrassing stories about what I did I would rather go without the details.”

Armin rolled his eyes playfully, and when he spoke the teasing tone had slightly left his voice. “I came back to the cabin and saw you two asleep. As in asleep against each other.”

Now it was Jean’s turn to roll his eyes. He had forgotten how invested Armin pretended not to be in his and Mikasa’s (non-existing) relationship.

“That’s progress, right?”

“Armin. I don’t think it means what you think it means. I mean, look, she asleep against you this very minute!” Jean gestured the Mikasa, whose cheek was currently pushed up against Armin’s shoulder.

Armin shook his head. “That’s completely different. First,” and he hold up a finger, “we’re all but siblings. And secondly,” another finger was raised, “look around Jean! It’s not like she has much choice here. Whereas in the shed there was literally a thousand different places she could’ve fallen asleep, and she chose the one right beside you.”

Jean shook his head lightly and scoffed. “Armin you think too deeply about too shallow things. I mean she probably was just talking to me and fell asleep. I wouldn’t know because I was in la la land and cannot remember a thing from that entire day and night. In fact, I was so off my head, she might as well have fallen asleep against –“ Jean waved his hand in the air, searching for a suitable noun.

“A horse?”

His hand froze in the air and he turned to Armin, who burst out into laughter when he saw Jean’s glare.

“Joking joking! I mean I see your point, but I know Mikasa, and I know that that meant something, whether you believe it or not. And anyway, she’s been acting differently around you lately. You surely must have noticed it.”

Jean looked over at Mikasa, exhaling softly as he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter Armin.” He thought back to the promise he had made to himself, and if he couldn't keep it for himself, then for her. The promise he had made for both of them, and the dream he had given up.

“Not now. It's too late. It doesn’t matter because it can’t matter.”

He had almost been talking to himself, and when he felt Armin’s gaze on him blushed.

“Anyway,” He leaned over, tapping the book in Armin’s lap while purposely avoiding Armin’s eyes, “can you tell me yet what magical properties Magna put in that cream? Can we plagiarise it and resell it back at home and become millionaires?”

For a moment Armin didn’t answer and he thought he would stay on the topic of Mikasa. But the he flipped open the book, and Jean offered up a small smile of relief.

“Well, I’m pretty sure she used spiders’ eggs to give it its numbing properties.” Armin’s voice was back to the cheerful tone of before, and Jean looked at him, already feeling his blush pale away.

“What kind of herb is that?”

Armin gave him a look. “ _Spiders’ eggs_ as in the embryo of arachnids.”

Jean couldn’t for sure say he understood the full meaning of Armin’s words, but he gathered that spiders’ eggs were not indeed some old wives’ name for a plant.

Armin burst out laughing as Jean made a horrified face, clutching his side as he imagine how many crushed up eggs he had applied to his ribs.

They passed the next few hours in a similar line of cheerful company, and Jean wished he could concentrate fully on the conversations, on the laughs he and Armin shared as they looked up the most crazy sounded herbs in his book. But most of all he wished he could stop his eyes from flickering to Mikasa when he knew Armin was distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armin is a lifelong Jeankasa shipper and nobody can convince me otherwise 😤👫💖


	47. Chapter Forty seven - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hizuru!🥳🚂

_Mikasa_

Mikasa cracked open one eye, and then immediately closed it again. She felt _awful_. Her head was gently pounding away, her stomach felt more than a little treacherous and her neck had a crick in it.

She tried again, her eyes opening slightly against the brightness. Blurrily she blinked, her gaze focusing one the view outside the carriage.

It was morning, but only just. The scenery had a touch of dawn about it, and Mikasa knew that if they could look directly upwards the sky would still retain streaks of darkness amongst the morning hues.

Trees ran past the window, all in full bloom. The train was moving slow enough she could almost make out the individual fruit that ladened some of the branches.

But then she thought she would throw up, so she quickly looked away from the moving scene.

Jean looked as sluggish as she felt, and she watched him for a moment blink lazily out the window.

And then Mikasa realised the pillow she was leaning against was warm, and breathing. She slowly turned her head, careful of the cramp in her neck.

Armin had been staring out the window, his eyes wide, but turned when he felt her movements.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Mikasa could feel Jean’s attention drawn to her, but she purposely avoided both her companion’s gaze. She nodded, wincing as she stretched.

“How do you feel?” Jean’s voice was hoarse from sleepiness, and he cleared his throat.

Mikasa looked at him, running a hand across her face. “Rough.” The only adjacent she felt was accurate in her present state.

Jean nodded sympathetic. “You look how I felt when I woke up after my drug bonanza.”

“You’ve been sleeping for ages.” Thankfully Armin cut in before Mikasa felt she had to respond to Jean, and she turned her attention to Armin.

“Oh yeah, sorry for sleeping on you.” She dusted his shoulder as if she had left dirt on him, and he laughed sweetly. “You don’t need to apologise Mikasa.”

It was then that Mikasa became aware of a wider accumulation of background noise. Papers being folded and opened again, gentle murmurs of conversation, humming. She peered around, for the first time noticing that their carriage was over half full.

“Magna wasn’t joking when she said the train stops at nearly every town. It seems as soon as it managed to pick up speed it slows down again for the next stop.” Jean had noticed her realisation.

As if the train had heard him, the soft whine of breaks leaked into the air. Mikasa looked outside, and sure enough there was a little platform up ahead on the bend.

“Well…” Jean stretched again, his joints cracking. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting hungry.”

Mikasa scoffed affectionally before she could stop herself, and immediately looked down before Jean could catch her eye.

“Jean, when _aren’t_ you getting hungry.” Yet again, she was saved by Armin, and Jean redirected his attention to Armin.

"Rolls?” A note of hopefulness hung in his voice.

Without saying anything, Mikasa dove into her bag and produced the mini-loaves she and Jean had baked previously.

They each took one, and Armin made a surprised noise when he tore into his. “What did you say was in these again?” He asked, eyeing up the red paste buried within his bread.

Jean and Mikasa went to speak at the same time, and both cut off, looking at each. Mikasa noticed the faint warmth in Jean’s cheeks as he gestured to Mikasa.

“You go ahead Mikasa, you were the one who made them.” A familiar glint returned to Jean’s eye. “Although I did appreciate the efforts you made to get me more involved in the process of squeezing out the paste.”

She looked at him, knowing full well they were both remembering the previous night, their gentle banter and playfulness. Mikasa tried to remain blank faced, but she couldn’t stop the slight tug on the corner of her lip.

She turned to Armin to explain the recipe, trying to convince herself that it was just the few last dregs of the herb in her system that was making her heart beat like this.

***

Despite the hundreds upon hundreds of stops, somehow the train made perfect time, arriving at the border station at exactly noon. Mikasa rolled her neck as they all stood up, trying to ease the ache in her neck. Although the crick burned against her muscles, it was a worthy sacrifice for them to swap an entire month of travel for twelve hours.

The rest of journey had gone by remarkably quickly. All three of them spent the time admiring Marley; the towns they passed, the stations they stopped at and the fields they passed. It seemed so strange to think that there was a time when none of them had even known anywhere outside the walls even existed, let along another country.

They joined the queue to step off the train, Mikasa first. Despite herself, she could feel herself growing excited. Hizuru. The home of her mother’s ancestry. For a moment, a brief pang of grief filled her chest. She only had the haziest of memories of her parents, and truthfully considered Carla to have been more a mother-figure than anyone else to her. But although she couldn’t remember any specifics, she remembered being happy as a young child. She could remember loving her parents. Not for the first time, but the first in a long time, she wished they could still be here, wished her mother could be beside her as she took her first steps into Hizuru.

As Mikasa jumped the little gap between the train and the platform, she was engulfed in the steam. When she cleared it, she stared around in wonder, trying to take the scene in.

Although the area was covered, it seemed to be more a marketplace than a train station per se. Kiosks and stalls filled the area, presenting a cacophony of sounds and smells and colours. As Armin and Jean cleared the platform gap behind her, Mikasa looked up at a glass roof which towered above. She followed it’s line until the haze of people and kiosks blocked it. The station must be _huge._

“Wow.” Jean stood beside her, blinking in surprise. “Bit of a change from the dour greeting at Marley, isn’t it? Is there even any immigration officers for me to lie to?”

Armin shook his head, his gaze focused on the crowds, weaving and undulating through the market. There seemed to be no clear path through the kiosks, Mikasa realised. Instead, the crowd seemed to diffuse through the market. She didn’t like it.

“Okay. Remember to always be aware where your moneybag is, this looks like a pickpocket's heaven.” On the train they had decided incase they got separated or something that the money should be split between the three of them. Mikasa noted that Armin seemed as uneasy as she was at the prospect of journeying through the market. 

Jean half-groaned. “Something smells delicious; how much are we allowed to spend?”

Mikasa turned and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She got in there before Armin did. “Jean, this isn’t some school trip with an allowance. Let’s just get out of here.” She briefly looked back over the market. “I don’t like it, there’s so many people.”

Jean made a noise of disagreement. “At the very least I think we should get supplies. Just things like a translation book, cheap raincoats because apparently it rains buckets here, and then maybe some food. I mean, whose to say where the next market or shop will be once we’ve left here.” He looked between the two of them, and Mikasa couldn’t deny the rationality. She could tell both Jean and Armin were waiting for her response, waiting to see if she’d argue.

She looked blankly at him, giving a half-shrug. “Okay.”

He looked back at her, waiting as if there was an _but_ coming. When none came, he returned the shrug. “Okay.”

Was he mocking her? Mikasa narrowed her eyes at him just a fraction. She could see him trying to hide a smile, which somehow annoyed her even more. “Okay… and?”

“Okay and let’s exchange our coins!” Armin grabbed them both by the shoulders and steered them forwards before the conversation could develop. He herded them towards one of the stalls closest to the platform. The sign above had some writing that none of them could understand, but next to it someone had roughly painted two currency symbols.


	48. Chapter Forty eight - Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! :)

_Jean_

Jean happily bit into some sort of pastry, and closed his eyes in satisfaction. Damn, he had missed meat. The texture of it, the feel of his teeth tearing into the chunks, the rich taste and the gamey smell. While the meals he had had at Magna’s had been, if nothing else, _filling_ , they hadn’t been this. They hadn’t been _meaty._

“Jean, please stop.” Armin hissed under his breath as he perused a stack of translation books in front of a stall.

Jean made a muffled, questioned sound, and Armin gave him the briefest side-eye. “You’re getting pastry flakes all over these books.” He said softly as he looked up and offered an apologetic smile to the merchant before walking away from the stall.

Jean swallowed his mouthful and followed him. “Sorry. I’d just forgotten how good meat is.”

Armin made a face as he took back his, slightly pallor-looking pastry. “I don’t know how you can just go back to eat meat. After seeing all those rabbits? Surely you must feel a little bit queasy with – Oh wow this is really good.” Armin got distracted by his pastry, his mouth full as he reappraised it.

“Not as good as my meat filled one I can assure you.” Jean joked, and then looked around. “Hey, where’s Mikasa gone off to this time?” For someone who seemed so uneasy entering the marketplace, she was doing a spectacular job at disappearing and reappearing from the group.

Armin wordlessly pointed up ahead. As if he had summoned her, Jean could just make her out weaving through the crowd towards them, clothing hanging from her arm.

“I got some waterproofs for us.” When she reached them, she held up a cloak for the two of them to examine. “How good they'll be I’m not sure, but they were cheap at least.” Jean noticed the way her eyes darted to the pastries they held, and without thinking about it he held out his.

“Wanna try some?”

Mikasa eyed it suspiciously. “Does it have meat in?”

Jean scoffed. “Of course.”

“No thanks.” She was already turning and walking away.

“What?” Jean jogged to catch up with her, knowing Armin was right behind. “Don’t tell me you’re doing an Armin?”

“It depends.” She flickered her hair out of her eyes, and he realised it was the longest he’d seen it for a long time. “If Armin is remembering the innocent creatures we shared a roof with, I guess I am.”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Bit hypocritically don’t you think?”

He could tell Mikasa was trying her best to be uninterested in the conversation, stopping to feel the softness of some scarves. Or maybe she was just trying to seem uninterested. Either way, he knew it was a lie.

After a beat she sighed, unable to stop herself. “How so.”

"Well… I mean, it’s not like you stopped eating chicken when Armin’s geese started sharing our garden.” He smirked at her, and he watched her lip twitch.

“That’s different. Poultry as a whole deserves to be eaten, because I can almost guarantee you that they all want to eat us. The snapping and chasing? Those geese are pure evil.”

“Hey!” Armin burst between them. “My geese are lovely, docile creatures of the lake.”

Jean snorted, catching Mikasa’s eye before she quickly looked away. Jean kept his gaze on her a second longer, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure her out. Not that he thought he had a chance. She had been a mystery to him from the first day he laid eyes on her, and twelve years later she still remained an enigma.

“So,” Armin drew Jean out of his thoughts as he counted off his fingers, “we’ve exchanged the coins, we have waterproofs, we have enough food and water for the next good few days. I think all that’s left is to find a translation book, right?”

Jean got distracted half way through the list by trying to dodge a band of wild children who seem to run _at_ him. “Er yeah sounds about right.” He said, not really knowing what he was agreeing too.

“Do you have a map?” Mikasa’s calm voice somehow managed to distinguish itself above all the shouts and calls from both the surrounding merchants and buyers.

Armin stared at her, his eyes wide. “I forgot the map! How did I forget the map! I love maps?” He sounded almost betrayed, hurt by his own memory.

“We can get them both at the same stall; I saw a big stationery kiosk up ahead. I think it would be good if we leave the station soon. I’m not sure when sunset is but I’d rather be far away from crowds like this when is it.”

Jean nodded in agreement to Mikasa, looking around him as he did. Hizuru was… not what he was expecting. The first thing off the bat was the pricings; both him and Armin (and Mikasa when she hadn’t wandered off) had exclaimed aloud at how affordable everything seemed. With the considerably lower prices, coupled with Magna paying for Armin’s ticket; they should just have enough money.

It wasn’t just the prices that were different; the atmosphere here was completely alien to life in both Marley and home. People were _louder,_ colour and fragrance was _everywhere._ There was an energy, a excited buzz in the mixture of faces and nationalities that surrounded them. There was something so wonderfully lively about the place. He thought back to the welcome they’d received on Marley docks. The single immigration officer who asked questions without even looking at them. Hizuru just seemed so much more… He searched for the word as he weaved through the crowds with Armin and Mikasa.

Hizuru just seemed so much _freer._

And before Jean could stop himself, the person who had been obsessed with that very thing popped into his head.

Eren.

Although he knew through his very being that Eren was dead; that Eren was not here… He couldn’t help but think if Eren could’ve chosen anywhere to live, he would’ve relished Hizuru.

And like dominoes, the line of thought was already in motion. There was nothing Jean could do to stop himself but from following it. His eyes slid to Mikasa.

Because Eren knew Mikasa was part Hizurian. Eren could’ve planned it. He would know that if her heart didn’t lead her back to him, her heritage would.

Jean shook his head, banishing the thoughts with a scowl. 

Eren was dead. He was gone. He’d been gone for the last eight years. There was no way he could be here, waiting for them.

Eren.

Was.

Dead.


	49. Chapter Forty nine - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a map, some mud and a whole lot of Hizurian rain

_Armin_

Armin wrapped the waterproof further around him. The rain pelted down, and he could feel the water slip through the garment, damp patches forming along his shoulders and chest.

His hood was dipping in front of his eyes, a steady drip of water falling from the seam. He shook his head, scattering the drops temporarily.

Beside him Jean tilted his head back, and then swore vehemently.

“Water go down your neck?” Armin asked sympathetically, to which Jean nodded with a scowl.

They had been walking for the past four hours, the rain unabating for the entire time. He was dully aware of the scenes they passed, and wished he could take them in without getting soaked in the process. Trees three times his height but as thin as him, their long branches sweeping down and touching the mud floor; houses and schools build from wood and stone, intricate carvings decorating their face; flowers the colours of sunsets dotting the road.

Up ahead, Mikasa led them. Armin took in her figure, her satchel now a dark brown from the rain. There was meant to be village up ahead where they were hoping to find shelter in for the night, but he knew that Mikasa had timed the journey with better roads in mind.

Not more than perhaps ten meters away from the station, the graveled path gave way to dirt. Or more precisely , _mud._ Some parts were okay, but after they left the station town, the hard-packed earth gave way to viscous mud. The rain pounded down, forming puddles on the surface. Each step the mud sucked on their feet, desperate to retain contact. Armin had to wretch his weight forward at some stages to free his shoe from a muddy embrace. And then the parts that weren’t trying to steal his shoes were trying to slip him up, and on more than one occasion he had to grab Jean to balance himself.

He could tell Jean was struggling, his breath coming out in shallow pants. Although his ribs were a world better than how they had been before Magna’s, they still weren’t completely healed, and he could tell the exertion of each step put more pressure on them.

“How are the ribs doing Jean?”

Jean grunted and nodded, but then shook his head. “I need to rest, even just for five minutes.” Without waiting for agreement, Jean staggered to the base of one of the trees, and gingerly sat by it’s roots, his head rested between his knees.

Armin watched him for a moment before calling Mikasa back. Her long figure was perhaps three meters up ahead, and the impact of the rain against the mud created vapour, an almost mist. She was shrouded in it, her body stark against the whites and greys of the air. She stilled, turning back to him, and for a second Armin was struck. He could just make out her face, expressionless as always. He couldn’t explain, but in that moment she seemed eternal. As if she could have stood there in the rain and mud for centuries and remained.

And then her head ducked against the rain and she began the trudge back to them, the visage evaporating and washing away. Armin waited for her to catch up before they both made their way to Jean.

The tree offered a surprising amount of shelter from the rain, and Armin could even take down his hood with only the fear of a drop or two landing on his head. He looked up, admiring the sloping dome of leaves and branches above.

He glance down as Jean’s hissing demanded his attention. He was lifting up his shirt, delicately dabbing some of the cream on. Armin was glad they had purchased two of the tubs; he had almost finished the first one already.

Armin noticed Mikasa watching Jean too. She seemed to realise what she was doing a moment after he had, and quickly looked away from his bare chest, her gaze focused now on the ground. Armin rolled his eyes affectionally. He was surrounded by two people who would do anything for each other, just not tell each other how they feel.

“I’ll be okay in a minute or two.” Jean pulled his shirt down, resting his head back against the bark as he tried to catch his breath.

“No it’s fine, I was thinking we should rest for water soon enough anyway.” Mikasa sounded normal, but Armin couldn't help but notice the blush in her cheeks as she dug around in her satchel to retrieve her water bottle. “Food now or later?” She looked at Armin.

“Later.” He decided firmly. “We don’t want to go through our supplies too quickly.”

Mikasa nodded and then ducked back into her bag as Jean and Armin both grabbed their bottles and drank. He supposed it had something to do with being surrounded by water, but he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was until he tasted the cold liquid against his lips.

“At least we’ll never have a shortage of water.” Jean joked, his line of thought clearly somewhere near Armin’s.

Armin smiled, and then looked at Mikasa, his mind back on the journey. “Do you reckon we’ll make the town before nightfall?”

She was studying the map, squinting at the intricate lines. Armin retrieved his translation book, and walked over, peering over her shoulder. Not for the first time, he wished with all his might that the Hizurian alphabet was the same as theirs', at least that would be something. But instead, translating any word took twice as long as it should, because first he had to work out which letters corresponded to the strange typography. And then once he had worked that out, _then_ he could actually search the word up in the book, finding at last it’s translation.

“I think we’re here.” Mikasa pointed at a spot midway between two squares, one larger than the other. “And this is the railway station,” she pointed to the large square, “and this is the town we’re heading toward,” she then pointed to the smaller square.

“So half way there?” Armin’s heart dropped. Sunset would probably be in only two or three hours.

Jean pushed himself up with a small groan and joined them, kneeling opposite the two of them and looking at the map upside down. Not that it mattered, it’s not like any of them could even read what it said.

“Wait where are we?”

Mikasa pointed at the spot, her finger running down the length of the map. “And this is where we want to be. As in long-term destination.”

“Do you think all the roads leading to those mountain villages are going to be as muddy as this one?” Jean looked between the two of them, a hint of panic featuring in his voice as his hand rested against his sides.

Mikasa was silent, and Armin leaned over her to point at the map. “From what I’ve read and heard from Falco, the north is far more industrial than the south. The capital, _here_ , is the home of the likes of the Azumabito’s and the government. It’s very modernised, more so than even Marley. Then the further down south you go, the more agriculturally the society becomes.” Armin’s finger ran down the map, pausing at a square. “This is where the train station is. It’s already fairly southern, we’re just walking basically horizontally to the border. So,” he sighed, “yes. The roads will probably be as bad, if not worst than this.”

Jean groaned dramatically, tilting his head back. Mikasa was silent, still examining the map.

“I have an idea.” Her voice was soft as her finger padded against the paper. “We’re not going to reach the town before nightfall, that’s pretty much guaranteed. So we’ll end up having to camp out somewhere anyway. Why not just skip the town, and take the more direct jungle route.”

Armin tilted his head, considering her words as his eyes followed the potential route.

“Like Jean said, we don’t have to worry about water. And we should have enough food to last us nearly a week if we’re carefully. We were always planning on passing through this larger town; we’ll just be cutting out the loop of going to the village first and taking a more direct route over the mountains. It’ll probably take three days to reach the larger town this way, but I reckon…” she paused, silently considering. “I reckon we’ll shave off maybe a week by bypassing the village.”

Armin didn’t answer immediately. She had a point. It was definitely a more direct route.

“I have a question.” Jean looked at Mikasa, his gaze intense. “Will the jungle path be different to this muddy slide?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I would assume so. I mean, at the very least, it’s a forest, so there’d have to be more leaves and branches and other foliage on the ground, right Armin?” She looked up at Armin, and he nodded slowly.

“Well, I’m all for it then.” Jean announced, lying back down on the grass.

Armin nodded again. “I agree. Mikasa make a good case. What’s the point in going out of our way to reach a village if we won’t even reach it before nightfall? Good point Mikasa.” He straighten, patting her shoulder as he did so.

His eyes lingered on the back of her head before he moved back to Jean. Even though he _knew_ she was Mikasa, the girl he had grown up with, he couldn’t completely shake the image of her he saw in his mind. Standing in the misting rain, her face turned to him. He had called it eternal, but it was something else. Something intangible and indestructible and with the hint of danger. Something that worried him as much as it had amazed him.


	50. Chapter Fifty - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Jeankasa ahead!!! I love this chapter so much💖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I'm obsessed with reading your theories and thoughts on what's going to happen! Thank you for everyone who shared their thoughts, I actually love reading the theories💖

_Jean_

Jean had tried not to complain much, but even with the cream applied, his ribs continued to ache. At one stage the pain was so bad he contemplated asking Armin for some painkillers. At least if he was high off his head he wouldn’t be able to feel the pain. But then the prospect of doing something even more embarrassing than petting Mikasa’s hair occurred to him, and he immediately disregarded the idea.

After maybe an hour of walking after their break, they had switched roads, opting for a thin offshoot which immediately took them down a short hill to the base of the forest. Jean looked up, eyeing the jungle building upwards.

“As long as we stay on the path, we won’t get lost. And I reckon it should take us a day and a half to reach the crest, and another day and a half to get back down again. Okay?” Mikasa looked between the men, her brow creased as if she was worried they were regretting agreeing to her plan.

“Sounds like fun.” Jean said dryly, his voice the only part of him not drenched at this stage. At least the forest trees above should offer some level of protection from the rain. He shifted his satchel, ignoring the buzz of pain radiating from his side with the movement. “Onwards and upwards I guess.”

“Onwards and upwards.” Armin said, taking the first step into the jungle’s green entrance.

Much to Jean’s relief, the forest’s path was cushioned with fallen leaves and other foliage, just like Mikasa had theorised. Although it was far more uneven than the muddy path they were leaving behind, Jean could finally take a step without wincing.

He looked at the back of Mikasa’s head, her hood having fallen down. It was strange, he had almost forgotten it was because of her that he had fractured ribs. It almost felt like blaming her for the weather, the two things just seemed so wildly unrelated at this stage.

There was something different about Mikasa. He couldn’t quite decide what it was, but something was changed. Not _off_ , not _missing_ , but changed. Like Hizuru was being to sink into and colour her soul.

And that was it, Jean realised. There was a freeness to her. Like the restraints she usually bound herself with had fallen away. He couldn’t really describe it. It was like her strength and her mind and her thoughts were free now. Like she felt she could finally relax because she was home.

The further they travelled from the train station, the more he and Armin became the anomaly amongst the people they passed. Most of the people this deep into Hizuru looked like Mikasa, and he wondered if this was how Mikasa had been treated all her life. The stares and narrowing of eyes, the double-glances

He kept forgetting she wasn’t fully Eldian. She had always just been Mikasa, and he found it difficult to remember that she wasn’t _just Mikasa._ That she was the last Ackerman, and also a Azumabito. Her blood containing the promise of not one, but two distinguished families.

Jean snorted. She and he could as well be different species. Him with his lovely but exceptionally ordinally mother, and his mystery father, a man he had never met nor likely would ever. Jean scowled, kicking a pebble on the path. And then because it felt good, he belted another one and it flew and hit a tree nearby. The reverberations carried up the trunk, and then an explosion of birds flew from it in a flurry of feathers and squawks.

He looked up, and saw both Armin and Mikasa had turned to watch him. He glared at them, snapping an apology. Armin just turned and continued walking, but Mikasa remained watching him. He had to bite his tongue not to snarl something at her too, because it wasn’t her fault she was as wonderfully special as he was woefully ordinary; it wasn’t her fault that she deserved to marry someone with equally significant heritage, not just a nobody.

He walked slowly, hoping she’d continue walking too. But she waited for him, and only when he had reach her did she begin to walk.

There were silent for a beat, and then she spoke.

“Is it your ribs?”

“No.” Jean had snapped, and then sighed, a hint of guilt in his breath. “No, it’s not my ribs. I was just thinking of my family.”

Mikasa nodded in understanding. “I was thinking of my family too.”

He looked at her. “Who were you thinking of?”

“My mum.” Mikasa paused to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Who were you thinking of?”

Jean sighed again, his frown returning. “My dad.”

“I didn’t know you had a dad.”

“I don’t.”

Mikasa didn’t reply for a moment, looking ahead as they walked. Jean knew she was leaving the space open incase he wanted to talk about it, but there was nothing really _to_ talk about. No memories, no details. Not even a name.

“What were the names of your parents?” Jean asked suddenly. He had heard bits and pieces over the years, enough snippets of stories to figure out what had happened to them.

Mikasa paused before answering, and when she did her voice was soft he could barely hear it above the patter of rain against leaves.

“Akira and Klaus.”

 _Akira and Klaus._ He said their names in his head, listening to how they sounded.

“They’re nice names.”

Mikasa nodded but didn’t say anything, and Jean knew he should drop the subject. He couldn’t though.

“Do you ever…” His voice trailed away as he tried to find the words he was looking for. “Do you ever wonder how much of you is you, and how much of you is who your parents were, and who their parents were and so on so on.”

Mikasa looked at him, blinking as she listened to his words.

“I mean..” He paused again, already wishing he had just dropped the subject. “Never mind.”

“Do you mean how much of me is me, and how much of me is because I’m an Ackerman? Or because I’m an Azumabito?” She asked, her voice still soft. “Because, yes, I always wondered. At one point it was all I could think about. Where does Mikasa end and the Ackerman blood begin. Or who would I be, who would I have loved, if I hadn’t been born an Ackerman.”

Jean was getting the distinct feeling that instead of lifting his mood, she was only dampen her own by talking to him. He hastened to speak before she could become any more melancholy.

“Take me. My mom never mentioned or told me anything about by father, which pretty much told me everything I needed to know about him. And as I got older, I kept thinking _is this who I am? Or is this who he was._ If that makes sense. It was like-“ Jean’s brow furrowed as he thought about what he was trying to say. For the first time ever he was trying to attach and chain words to the fluid thoughts he had always been away of but never fully addressed.

“It was like every time I did something I knew I shouldn’t; like get into fights and mock my friends and shout at my mum, every time, there was this figure in my peripheral vision. This faceless father who hadn’t even stayed long enough to see me born. And it was like I was acting up not because I was just acting up, being a stupid kid, but because I was his son, and his blood was beating in my heart and through my body and I couldn’t _not_ be a mess up, _not_ be a bad son and a cruddy friend.” He suddenly felt like he had bared far too much of himself to Mikasa, and forced a laugh. “None of that probably made any sense anyway but-“

“No, it made perfect sense.” Mikasa said, the gravitas in her voice making Jean look at her. She stared straight ahead, refusing to return his gaze but very definitely aware of it.

“It made perfect sense to me.” She repeated softly, and they continued walking, silent but side-by-side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h2g I was walking listening to music trying to brainstorm the plot and 'Daddy's Issues' by The Neighbourhood came on, and I was like waitttt hold the damn phone 👀  
> No seriously though, I really feel the absence of a father figure would really explain a lot about Jean's behaviour, especially in his younger years when he was always trying to prove himself. I think the idea of him lacking a man to look up to would've left him feeling quite lost, and forced him to reevaluate who exactly he really was as he grew older. And I just love the idea of him and Mikasa bonding over their parental issues 🥺💖  
> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! And as always thanks so much for reading x


	51. Chapter Fifty one - Mikasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa's trances finally get explained (sorta)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you all for all the support on the last few chapters! In the last week this story has received over 2,200 hits, 6 bookmarks and over a hundred kudos and comments each. !!! Absolutely insane! I honestly can't fully say how grateful I am for everyone who reads this story, and the wonderful comments you guys leave on the chapters. You support really pushes me to not only see the story through, but to ensure my writing and plot is done to the best standard I can do it🥰  
> So I guess thank you all so very much! And hope you enjoy the chapter :)

_Mikasa_

They hadn’t made it that far into the jungle before darkness fell. Mikasa had suggested continuing on a little further, but then Armin had gently reminded her that an extra fifty or so meters wasn’t worth risking a twisted ankle over, and Mikasa had had to agree.

They set up against one of the trees that lined the jungle’s path, bundling their clothes underneath them to make the ground slightly softer. She could tell from Jean’s soft grunts that his side was at him, and as he rearranged his pile of clothes into a makeshift pillow, she allowed her gaze to linger on him.

His hair was growing longer. It wasn’t even close enough to being back to its normal length, but at least it was long enough now to actually be seen against his scalp. Before she could stop herself, she imagined what it would be like to run her hand through his new length – would it feel like sharp bristles or would his hair be soft, like it was last time she'd cut it.

Mikasa looked away as he turned again trying to get comfortable, this time towards her. Her cheeks warmed at the intimacy of her thoughts. Where had that come from? Since when did she _image_ running her hands through Jean's hair?

Even though she was resolutely staring down at the ground, she could feel Jean’s gaze on her.

“I’ll take first watch.” She announced, addressing Armin as she desperately hoped her cheeks would cool down. “Two hours on each?” It was far from ideal as it meant she wouldn’t be able to take the herb, but she hoped that four hours wasn’t a long enough time to fall into the a sleep as deep as required for the trance.

Armin nodded in agreement, and Mikasa forced herself to look at Jean. She knew he must’ve seen her blush, and expected him to be smirking at her, smug with an eyebrow raised.

Instead it was far worst. He was looking at her, his eyes gently regarding her as a sad, little smile tugged at his lips. “If that’s what you want Mikasa.” His voice was soft, and she doubted Armin could hear it. Which only made the whole situation more intimate.

Mikasa refused to scrutinise his behaviour (or the way she felt about it), and instead gave him a curt nod. “It is.”

She looked up at the roof of branches and leaves above them, if only so she didn’t have face the look in Jean’s eyes. She closed her own, tilting her head back. She repressed any thoughts or emotions that bubbled up, and instead gave herself up to the forest around. The sound of raindrops hitting gently against a thousand leaves, the smell of wet wood and fresh foliage, even the taste of rain on her lips. She took a deep breath, ridding her soul of the thoughts and fears that plague it, and only opened her eyes when she heard Jean turn away from her.

She promised herself she wouldn’t look at him once, and instead focused on the wild explosion of life around her. She found time went surprisingly fast when she was empty of emotions and thoughts, and sure enough, in no time it seemed she was waking Armin.

He blinked groggily, but nodded at her, and she settled against her own collection of clothing. She lay on her back, looking upwards, but found the position uncomfortable. It was only after she had turned on her side did she remember her promise, but it was too late. She was already facing him, her eyes taking in Jean's sleeping form.

She watched the rhythmic movement of his chest, how it rose and fell like the undulations of waves, and found herself drifting off to sleep, dreaming of beaches and sea and smiles.

***

Mikasa woke up, and immediately knew something was wrong. The sunlight filtering through layers of forest growth told her she had slept far longer than just four hours.

She sat, automatically alert as she looked for her two companions. Armin was sitting against a near tree, reading through his herbology book, while Jean lay on the forest floor, seemingly half asleep.

Despite how at ease the two of them seemed, it did nothing to calm Mikasa. Because she realised what had happened. She had had another dream, been in another trance.

She pushed the heel of her palms against her eyes, pushing back the images, pushing back the pain. But it came regardless.

_Eren. In front of her. Her sword raised. She would do it. Behind her; the sounds of the battle. The screams and shouts of her comrades, the roars and screeches of titans._

_She raised her sword, pointing it at him. She would do it. She would end what he had begun. She had always been finishing the fights he had started, cleaning up the messes he had made; why would this be any different?_

_“Eren.” The name fell of her lips, the sound of her heart breaking._

_He had looked at her, and that was the worst thing. How disinterested, numb, how_ bored _he seemed. All the chaos. All this death._

_His eyes took her in, his apathetic energy in direct contrast to her frantic one._

_“Mikasa.”_

_“Eren.” She cried, her sobs making the sword shake. She had put all the things she longed to say, all her wishes and hopes and pleas into that single syllable. “Eren, please.”_

_What was she begging for? For him to end this? For him to let her end it all? For him to end her before she had to end him? Or simply just for an ending? Anything but this._

_He looked at her, his eyes so dead, so empty. “Mikasa, do what you have to. It’s your freedom to.”_

_“Eren! Stop this!” She had shouted, her scream pulling at her heart. Because she couldn’t, she couldn’t do it. She knew she couldn’t._

_“Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” He had said, and then the man was no more, and instead it was_ Eren. Her _Eren. The boy who had rescued her and tied a scarf around her neck; the boy filled with rage and fire, who she followed to hell and back. The boy who had consumed her._

_He just looked at her, his emerald eyes wide. And she had just looked back at him, her sword slowly lowling._

That was when the dream would change from fact to fiction, and there would be no Falco to save the day. It was all down to her. Mikasa was left standing, her sword handing towards her feet as she stared at him. Accepting how weak she was as the screams of the battle surrounded her.

And in every trance it was the same; child Eren would look at her and speak, speak in a way she couldn’t argue with, couldn’t ignore.

_“You’ve chosen me over your friends?”_

And she would nod, the sobs shaking her body.

“ _Now commit to it.”_ And her gaze would follow his to her sword, and then behind her to the battle.

Sometimes she would fight, pleading and begging.

_No, please Eren, don’t make me! I won’t! I can’t! Please don’t make me. They’re my friends! They’re yours too! Please Eren, no._

Sometimes she just accepted it, a single tear running down her cheek as she nodded solemnly.

It didn’t matter, because she always did what he told her to. She always had and the dream was no different. So she turned away from Eren, lifting her sword up. Because she was his weapon, to be used and fought with and then discarded when blunt. This was her finally battle. And she would finish this fight like she always had; he would start them, and then Mikasa would have to come in and finish it. Commit to it.

She pushed the heels of her palms further against her eyes, stars exploding behind her eyelids as she tried to rid herself of the images.

“Mikasa?”

Because it hadn’t happened. She hadn’t killed any of them. Jean and Armin and Levi and Connie and Reiner and Annie. It hadn’t happened; it wasn’t true. No matter how vividly she saw it in her dreams; it wasn’t true.

“Mikasa?”

She longed to know why she had begun having the trances - somehow find a way to stop them. She had been having these dreams for over seven years, why now had the trances begun to accompany them? She wished she had taken her medicine last night, even if it meant sleeping for so long. Because she could manage the dreams, she had been doing so for years; it was the waking up she couldn't bare. Not knowing if she actually hurt any of them. Not knowing if she would wake up to two bodies. If she had finally committed to it.

“Mikasa!”

Mikasa forced her breathing to level, forcing her panic down. She couldn’t let herself become so emotional; it wasn’t her. Slowly, the sounds and smells of the forest returned to her, and she became aware of Jean and Armin’s presences, hovering nearby but not daring to touch her.

“I’m sorry, so much had happened yesterday I forgot to get one of you to bind my wrists.” She made her voice as emotionless as possible, because she knew the other option was to start crying in front of them.

She whipped her sleeve across her eyes, and looked at the two men in front of her. Their expressions mirrored one another, worry and concern and fear.

Not fear _of_ her, but fear _for_ her, which made something made the whole thing worse.

“Mikasa, are you… okay?” Armin’s brows were furrowed, and she could see anxiety in his sea-blue eyes.

“Yes, sorry. I’ve probably set us behind by a good few hours.” She sat up probably, leaning over to search through her bag.

She knew that behind her, Armin and Jean were exchanging worried looks, wondering what was up with her. A spark of guilt made it past her walls for an instant before she buried the emotion back down again.

She knew she should explain to them, to apologies and tell them everything. But how could she? How could she look them in the eye and describe how she lowered her sword at Eren? How she could've finished the battle earlier had it not been for her weakness, possibly even save some of their friends? How could she look them in the eyes and chronicle her dreams for them? That the reason she attacks them in those trances is because in her mind Eren has ordered her too. That she thinks she’s back in the Rumbling, killing each of them for him.

Mikasa took a deep breath as she rooted through her bag. No, she couldn’t. Because they would hate her. And rightly so. She would finally have lost the last few people remaining in her life. And she couldn’t. She would rather die than be alone again; would rather die than be without Armin’s soft eyes and Jean’s smiling lips.

No. She wouldn’t tell them about her dreams because she couldn’t tell them.

Because they would hate her.

And she would lose them, be alone once more.

And she couldn’t survive that.

She turned around, her face carefully devoid of any emotion. She held out the rope in her hand.

“We should get going soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just checked and the next chapter is so short it feels cruel to just put it up by itself 😂 so I'll throw it up now too!


	52. Chapter Fifty two - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm so sorry if any grammatical/spelling errors make it in! Please do let me know if you see any, I do try and catch them all but somehow some always slip past me! thanks so much x

_Armin_

He watched Mikasa’s back as they walked, her posture slightly awkward because of her bound wrists. She led the way, Jean and Armin following behind. Side-by-side but not speaking. Both of them watching Mikasa.

Armin knew there was no point in directly questioning her on her behaviour; on her dreams and the trances. He knew from over twenty years of friendship that she would close up, burying her true self further away from them.

He thought back to her whimpering, the panicked gasps and soft sobs. Jean had been taking watch, and had gone to wake Armin but he was already awake. He watched her body shake, her face contorted into a picture of anguish. It was foolish and shamefully optimistic, but he had hoped that staying at Magna's had somehow rid Mikasa of the trances. After all, it had been almost a week since her one on the path.

It hadn’t gone on all that long, maybe half an hour tops, but he and Jean had both agreed not to wake her up. He thought back to when she woke; hearing her soft sobs, the heels of her palms against her face as she gently rocked back and forth.

And then how eerily she had just turned it all off. All the emotion, the turmoil and pain. Her face like a blank slate when she addressed then, her eyes dull and distant.

He didn’t like thinking about it, so he tried to distract himself by focusing on their surroundings. The jungle really was marvelous. The path had dwindled to little more than a clearing of vegetation, and it was clear that this area was nature’s territory; humans were only permitted to pass through.

Not that many of them seemed to though. So far the three of them had passed a large family, and other than that their only company had been the cries and shrill voices of birds above, and the croaking of unidentified creatures from shadows.

Armin longed to reach into his satchel and take out Magna's book; some of the fauna they saw on the walk were extraordinary. He resisted the urge until they would stop for the night, but contended himself with gazing at the array of plants. Explosions of neon colours, petals the length of his arm, intoxicating scents that filled the air when they passed.

He was preoccupied by his thoughts of flowers when Jean’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He started, and went to speak before he saw Jean lifting a finger to his smiling lips, and then gestured above them.

With more than a little apprehension, Armin tilted his head back.

Monkeys.

He had never seen monkeys before.

He made a little _oh_ sound, watching the family of them in the tree above. They were half in shadows, but parts of them were flecked in sunlight, and he could make out stretches of dark fur, round mouths and large dark eyes, currently focused on the two men.

“Look, a baby.” Jean’s voice was soft, and Armin squinted to make out a bundle of fur and fingers and shining eyes clinging to it’s mother’s chest.

They seemed as interested in Armin and Jean as the two men were in them, and for perhaps half a minute the two groups observed each other.

“What do you think –“

Armin’s soft question was interrupted, slashed through by shouting, a struggle.

The monkeys dashed away as Jean and Armin twisted to look up ahead, the energy instantly changed.

Another shout, and Mikasa was struggling, kicking as she was picked up, lifted by two men.

“Mikasa!” Jean was already running towards her when Armin felt the gun against his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuunnnn!!!


	53. Chapter Fifty three - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So head's up, this chapter and the next do feature violence. I would rank it the same level of graphic violence as in the Hunger Games books (which will forever be my go to literary comparison lol), so if you're good with those, you should be good with these chapters :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naw I couldn't keep you guys waiting too long after the cliffhanger from the last chapter! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> And also wow thank you a crazy crazy amount for 6000 views!!! It's 2am right now and I'm meant to be asleep but I wanted to upload this before bed, so the downside to that is that I am way too tired to properly express my gratitude (I don't think that sentence even makes sense?), but please know I am so so so thankful for every hit, comment, kudo and bookmark. And as always double upload tomorrow!  
> 

_Jean_

Jean didn’t even see it coming.

All he knew was that he running, running to Mikasa who was fighting, buckling against the two men who were carrying her away, struggling because her hands were tied, and _why_ had he bound the rope so tightly, _why_ had he done a double knot-

And the next thing he knew he was being thrown to the ground, the blow to his head reverberating through him. He was vaguely aware of Mikasa screaming his name out and Armin shouting and the sounds of a struggle and then a face loomed over his, a man who was raising a slab of rock above them both, ready to strike Jean again.

He was kneeling over Jean, his face inches away with his free hand pushed down on Jean’s chest to stop him from moving. Jean was close enough to see the lines carved into the man’s face, the soft brown shade of his eyes. Without thinking about it, as the rock swung towards his forehead, Jean lurched up, his head colliding with the man above.

Blood exploded between them, and Jean dully sensed the rock slamming into his shoulder instead. He didn’t think, didn’t pause, didn’t _feel._ His blood was buzzing, his mind completely given over pure, physical action. To what he had been trained to do.

To survive.

The man had thrown himself back, shouting as he held a hand to his bleeding nose, and Jean launched himself after him, crashing into him.

The man barely had time to recover before Jean was straddling his chest, his knees locked on the man’s upper arms, pinning them to the ground.

His breath came out in short, staccato bursts as his hands wrapped around the man’s neck, squeezing. He felt the air forced out by his fingers, the cartilage slowly being crushed.

Around them, there was shouting and struggling, but Jean was dead to it. All he saw was the man beneath him, writhing desperately to throw Jean off. Nails scrapped down his thighs, and Jean increased the pressure, watching the man’s face growing red. His own breaths burned his chest from exertion, but he didn’t let up, didn’t let go.

He could feel the struggles become weaker, the man’s limbs sporadically jerking now. His eyes rolled up, his face purple, and Jean was going to do it. He was going to watch the life leave this man, watch him die, with Jean on his chest and his hangs gripping his neck.

Jean was going to kill this man.

He threw himself back, gasping, scrambled away. His hands shaking; his _whole body_ shaking.

The man lay, unmoving, and for one horrible, earth-shattering moment Jean thought he had done, he had murdered him. He had killed. Again.

But then he noticed the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the colour returning to his face, and Jean moved closer, leaning down to hear the rasping breaths. He released a heavy breath, relief sweeping through him as he bent his head down for the briefest moment because it was okay, he hadn’t-

_BANG!_

Jean’s head whipped up. The unmistakable sound of a gun.

And he watched as Armin staggered back, staring down almost in wonder at the blood beginning to bubble and gurgle from his stomach.

_BANG!_

Armin fell back, hitting the ground with an awful finality. In front of him, a young man shakily reloaded.

Jean was already running, and the man saw him, raising the barrel just a fraction too late.

Jean collided with him, feeling a bullet rip past his head. They landed in a pile, and for the first time Jean felt the ache in his shoulder, his arm failing him when he tried to push up on it and that was all that mattered. That precious second.

Because the man didn't pause, didn't wait to roll on top of him. He was younger than Jean thought at first, younger than Jean and was probably the same age as Falco and he was aiming the gun at Jean’s head, and Jean didn’t even think, he just threw out a punch and felt the fist connecting with skin the second before the gun went off.

It missed, but only just.

The bullet buried itself into the dirt beside Jean’s head, and he roared, his hearing suddenly ringing and fractured by the sound of the gun.

The man, _boy,_ kept his grip on the gun but Jean was fighting him, struggling against him and Jean could see even injured he had more build, more muscle than the boy. He tried to aim again but Jean wrenched his hand across, slapping the gun out of his hand, and hearing it skid across grass.

He assumed the boy would make a move to grab it, and was unprepared when instead his hands wrapped around Jean’s neck. Jean gasped one last breath before the boy pushed down harder, and Jean kicked out, managing to nail a punch into the boy’s side. The boy chocked on a pained breath, and the momentarily pause was all Jean needed to switch their positions, and he was on top of the teenager now, one hand pressing down on his neck while the other reached out, searching for a stone or something to knock the kid out with, anything –

The blow threw Jean. Suddenly he was on his back, his thoughts ruptured from his mind. He blinked, trying to make sense of anything as his head pounded and he could feel blood warm his hair.

And then the man who had attacked Jean first was back, his face red and his throat still imprinted with Jean’s fingers. He lifted the stone with a shaking hand, to finally finish what he had started, and Jean watched, mildly interested to see how it would all play out. The stone ascending and the man said something that Jean couldn’t understand, and then it was flying down towards him and Jean closed his eyes and –

_BANG!!!_

Jean’s eyes shot open, watching as the man paused, the stone dropping from his hand as he looked down in surprised. His shirt, which once was white and muddy was now seeping red.

_BANG!!!_

Jean watching the life blink out of his eyes, and he collapsed sideways and Jean just stared up at the canopy of leaves above him, and he wondered where the monkeys were now, were they still thinking of Armin and Jean the same way Jean was thinking of them, and he wished Mikasa could’ve seen –

Mikasa.

Jean’s consciousness slammed back to reality, and he groaned, coughing as he pushed himself up. His shoulder buckled and strained but he ignored it, looking around, blinking the blood out of his eyes.

Mikasa.

Her name was bound in his thoughts, and all he could think of was how she was in danger, how she was taken all because he had tied the knots so damn tight.

He moved his gaze as quickly as he could, and stopped when he saw Armin. Armin who had one hand holding in his internal organs and the other one gripping the gun.

He followed the gun’s direction to see the boy he had been fighting with sitting, motionless, his eyes wide as he stared at the body beside Jean.

Jean stood, and he and Armin shared the briefest glance before Armin shifted slightly, hissing as the steam around him increased.

“Mikasa.” Was the only word Jean could say to Armin, the only word he could _manage_ before he followed the path she had been taken. It was the only word he could think of.

Mikasa.

Something was wrong with his left arm and he couldn’t really move it and his ribs ached again and he kept having to rub blood out of his eyes and for some reason he couldn’t run, because his ear rang and his head begun to spin if he moved quicker than a desperate shuffle, but he ignored it.

Because he could hear her.

Hear Mikasa.

Just up beyond the bend the of the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing any sort of fight/action, so I hope it's okay!


	54. Chapter Fifty four - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware Hunger Games level of gore in this chapter!  
> Featuring Mikasa the Ackerbeast and Jeankasa softness!  
> Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading :)

_Jean_

He rounded the corner, and then paused, blinking as he tried to force his mind to make sense of the image in front of him.

There should’ve only be two men. Why were there suddenly five? He blinked again, wondering if he was seeing double as the three extra begun to run towards him, still not seeing him yet, guns gripped in each of their hands.

And then he saw Mikasa.

She was shouting, screaming his and Armin’s names, kicking and desperately trying to free her hands, to fight back.

One man was holding her legs and another was gripping a knife and was leaning towards her, the tip diving towards her.

“No!”

Jean reached out, as if to stop the man, and all the eyes turned to him, turned to him too weak to even stand alone, turned to him leaning against a tree and reaching out to Mikasa.

Instantly, shouting filled the air and knives were raised and a gun aimed and Mikasa screamed his name, telling him to run, but he couldn’t, because how could he turn and run when she was still here?

And he watched, ignoring the fast approaching group, as the knife continued its path, and he was convinced they were cutting off her hands, because the knife was worrying and sawing on something and Mikasa was screaming, screaming at Jean to run and –

And the rope fell away from her wrists.

And that’s all she needed.

She spun, instantly freeing herself as one hand slammed the man with the knife into her knee. Her free hand grabbed the other man’s neck and threw him to the ground.

Jean felt a bullet brush past him but didn’t react, watching as the three other figures turned, hearing the commotion. By the time they were facing her, she already had the knife in her hand, and was running at them.

The first man didn’t even have time to shout before he was impaled on her knife. He struggled to push her away, and Jean watched with a sense of detachment as she pushed the knife upwards, twisting it until blood bubbled from the man’s mouth.

One of the others, and Jean saw now she was a woman, her hair tied up in a neat bun, shouted. She was kneeling, and her gun fired and with near inhumane speed Mikasa reacted, spinning the body in the path of the bullet as she darted to the side.

The second man held a sword and swung it at her, but she dodged it and slammed into him. Her knife was already buried into him when the woman roared.

Mikasa paused, and the two of them faced each other. Mikasa with her knife embedded in the man. The woman with her gun trained on Jean.

Jean was disconnected from it all, and watched it play out as he leaned against the tree, his mind empty of thoughts expect for a single name.

Mikasa’s eyes darted to Jean, and the woman shouted, her voice trembling as her gun shook. Mikasa spoke soothingly, nodding as she pulled the knife from the man. One hand went around the man’s middle, and Jean watched as Mikasa never lost eye-contact with the woman, gently lowering the man down. The other hand slowly pulled the knife from his back.

_It’s okay, look I’m doing it, it’s okay, you’re safe now it’s okay –_

The woman hadn’t even time to react before the knife was embedded in her throat. Blood exploded from the impact, and she fell, the gun firing into the trees above.

Mikasa briefly looked over the two still but bleeding bodies before running to Jean. Jean watched her with glazed eyes and head void of everything other than a ringing sound and her.

“Jean. Jean are you okay?! Where’s Armin?” Her hands brushed him down, searching for a wound of some sort.

“Jean!” She looked at him, seemingly noticing that all the blood on his forehead wasn’t just someone’s else.

“Jean!” And her fingers pushed through his hair, and he hissed as he felt her prodding the wound.

He could tell by her intake of breath that she wasn’t pleased by what she found. Her cool hands gripped his face, turning him to her.

“Jean. Can you walk? Where’s Armin?”

He noticed that she had splatterings of blood across her face, and he raised his hand to wipe some of it away. “Mikasa.” He whispered her name, and he noticed the way she stilled.

“Jean.”

There was something in the way she said his name, the way she was frozen as they looked at each other, but then she shook her head. “I need to go and make sure Armin is okay. I’ll be back.”

She gently grasped his hand and pulled it away from her cheek, and then she was gone. Jean tilted his head against the tree, and looked down on the scene of devastation Mikasa had left, done so effortlessly and without getting a scratch on her, without even breaking into a sweat.

And he stared at it without really feeling anything because his head was beginning to pulse and spin, and he wondered if he was going to fall and then Mikasa was back and she was calling his name and snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Jean! Here hold this, it’ll stop the bleeding.” She was pressing something against the side of his head, and he hissed, automatically trying to move away from the pain.

“Jean, hold it and I’ll help you back down the hill again.” He watched in a detached sense as Mikasa grabbed his hand and pressed it against the cloth, only for it to sag limply against her touch. She frowned, and it was only then she noticed how he was leaning to one side.

“Jean?”

He was watching this all play out with dazed eyes, but forced himself to answer her. He cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was little more than a rasp, the words burning his bruised throat “My shoulder.”

Her eyes took in her shoulder, and he watched her without feeling it as her fingers ran up his arm, pressing into the joint.

“Mikasa?”

Her face turned to his, her face filled with worry. Worry for him.

Her hair had come loose, and flowed around her face, whispering gently in the soft breeze. Darkness began to creep into the corner of his vision, and he reached forward, tucking some of the strands behind her ear.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He managed a weak smile before he finally collapsed. The last thing he heard was her sharp intake of breath, the last thing he felt was her hands around him, catching him, and then everything went black as his knees hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write a fic with Mikasa in and not have her use her Ackerman fighting skills to protect her loved ones! Hope you enjoy :)


	55. Chapter Fifty five - Armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you all so much on the response on the last few chapters! It really means a lot and I'm so honoured and grateful that people are enjoying this story as I am writing it :') And thank you for 400 comments?!?!? Actually unreal, hearing your thoughts and having the chats is one of my favourite things. So thank you to everyone who has left a comment❤ Your wonderful words really push me to write the best story I possibly can ❤  
> A day late but double upload, as I feel these chapters do work well together. Thanks again!

_Armin_

Armin shifted, cross-legged, and winced. His second time getting shot, and it was just as painful as he remembered it being.

He could feel the steady warmth beneath his fingers, the feeling of restoration. It was an uncomfortable sensation, the growth of things that should be damaged beyond repair. But without it, he knew he would be long dead.

Still though, he didn’t dare remove his hand from against his stomach. The feeling of his guts threatening to spill out was not a sensation he would like to relive if he could avoid it.

Whimpering.

Armin looked back at the boy. He still hadn’t moved. He was just sitting there, arms wrapped around his knees as he stared at the dead body. Armin traced the path of his tears down his cheeks before they disappeared behind the shape of his arm.

He wondered if the teenager was even aware of the gun Armin had pointed at him. For the past hour he hadn’t even glanced at Armin. All he had done was sit there, staring at the body in front of him as he whimpered, repeated the same word, over and over.

_Papa._

Armin breathed deeply, his gaze returning to the grass beneath his feet. He didn’t need his translation book to figure out what that meant.

He closed his eyes, briefly rubbing a hand over his face. Why had this happened? No, he knew that answer. But _how? How_ could he have let it all happen? Been so foolish? His heart boiled in hatred for himself. Over and over, his soul was soaked and soiled in blood. He had promised himself no more. It had been war, and he had survived, for better or for worse. But no more.

And yet here he was, with two bullet holes in him, Mikasa tending to an unconscious Jean behind him, six bodies scattered around him and a gun in his hand.

He opened his eyes, looking down at revolver.

How had he let this happen?

He thought about Commander Erwin, his steel-blue eyes that could have pierced through anything, his thick eyebrows and stern face. He would’ve –

Armin groaned softly, throwing his head back to stare at the leaves above. It didn’t matter what he would’ve done. Because he was dead. And Armin was here. A balance of life, the scales tipping to one side.

Captain Levi had chosen. He had made the decision who to let die. The same way Armin had just done. Who to let be killed. Jean’s life for a stranger’s. A father’s life for a foreigner.

He returned his gaze back to the boy in front of him. What had been the right choice? And for a moment he imagined he could see every pathway the future held, each one an echo of the present. He had left the boy fatherless, and wondered briefly what the future held for him. How a simple pull of a trigger had irreversibly changed the teenager's life; distorted and twisted it from what was a sure future two hours previous.

“Armin. If it makes you feel any better, I killed five of them. Your sins today are far less than mine.”

Armin turned to face Mikasa, looking at her for a moment before answering. Jean’s head was in her lap, and Mikasa held a wad of leaves against his wound as she began to bandage him, wrapping the herbs against him.

“It doesn’t actually.” Armin stared at her, and she looked back at him. The woman currently nursing their friend had less than an hour killed five strangers without hesitation. He thought back to that moment yesterday. Of her standing, unmoving in the rain.

Sometimes Mikasa truly terrified him.

She broke eye contact first, and continued to wind the bandage around Jean’s head. “We did what we had to. To survive. That’s all we’ve ever done. And anyway, they attacked us. They would’ve killed us. Bandits.”

And Armin was so tempted to agree with her, to just let the comment pass. Because even though she terrified him, he didn’t mean he didn’t love her; he didn’t feel his heart bleed when hers broke.

But at the same time she deserved to know. Deserved the truth.

“Mikasa.” He spoke slowly, facing her but his gun still pointed at the teenager. “They weren’t attacking us.”

“Of course-“

“They were rescuing you.”

Mikasa just stared at him, her hands still on Jean’s forehead. She shook her head minutely. “Armin what –“

“Think of it. Two foreign men leading a woman with bound wrist deep into a jungle.” Armin’s voice was gentle, watching the realisation wash across Mikasa’s face.

“They were the same group we passed earlier today. They must’ve seen you, and then double backed through the bush so they could… could rescue you.” Armin sighed deeply, and watched as Mikasa’s gaze moved from him to the teenager behind him.

“They- they were trying to rescue me? Because I looked like I belonged here, and that I needed help?” Armin nodded.

“And I killed them. I killed them for trying to save me.”

Armin didn’t say anything, just watched Mikasa as she frowned, blinking. He imagined he could see her thoughts, was witnessing her desperate attempts to suppress all the emotions bubbling up.

She cleared her throat, gulping before nodding her head at the boy. “And – and him. What will we do with him.”

Armin’s eyes softened. “You know what we’ll do.”

Mikasa looked back at him, blinking. “Of course. Of course we’ll release him. I just meant when. Now or..?”

Armin breathed deeply as he looked back at the teenager. “Later. If the herbs you collected are as potent as Magna’s book claimed they are, Jean should be healed fairly quickly. Even if his shoulder and head and side are in rough shape, his legs are fine. No point trying to walk in the dark though. So when we leave tomorrow morning, we’ll release him.”

Armin knew both he and Mikasa were looking at the boy. He still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t looked away from his dead father’s body.

Armin took a deep breath. When would they finally be free of death?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	56. Chapter Fifty six - Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter, but hey there's only so much rewriting you can do with a passage of writing, right? (Plus I am so sick of rereading the same lines over and over again 😅)  
> Thank you again for all the kudos, hits, bookmarks and comment! I am so grateful for each one :')

_Mikasa_

Mikasa knew she should begin treating Jean’s shoulder, but somehow she couldn’t move. His head rested against her lap, and she could feel his breathing, and that anchored her to the present.

Because those people she had killed without thought.

They had been trying to save her.

They were her people.

And she murdered them.

Mikasa briefly shut her eyes, forcing her breathing to calm; to keep paces with Jean’s. She took a deep breath, feeling him do the same, and only released it when he finally breathed out, his chest deflating against her knees.

Because there was no point thinking about. Because they were dead, and she was alive. Because she had killed, and her two friends were still here, with her.

She opened her eyes, looking down at Jean’s sleeping face. And as it was just her, she allowed her gaze to linger on his features.

She realised he had the faintest scar on his forehead from her first trance, when Falco had landed. A scar from her.

She raised her hand, and with the softest of touches traced the shape of it with the pad of her finger. She could feel the rough texture of it, the damaged skin against his smooth forehead.

And then she realised what she was doing, and instantly moved her hand away. She couldn’t stop herself from looking down at his sleeping face though. He looked younger like this, she thought. Almost how he looked at training, as a cadet. Her gaze softened. How long ago that time seemed.

She placed her hand against her cheek, the coldness of palm cooling her warming skin. She could still feel the echoes of his warmth, the ghostly touch of his clumsy fingers against her.

_Mikasa… I’m glad you’re okay._

She shook her head, ridding herself of her thoughts as she reached over to grab the knife beside her. Because just like with everything right now, there was no point thinking about it. No point reimagining how his fingers brushed away the specks of blood from her cheek, no point remembering his shout, the way he had reached for her. There were too many things, too many emotions to deal with and too many feelings to manage. So she just pushed them all back.

With smooth and confident movements, the knife ripped down along the seam of his shirt, allowing her access to his shoulder.

Beside her were the collection of various leaves Armin had had her collect from the jungle around them. He had made Mikasa guard the kid when he leaned over Magna’s herb book, one hand wrapped around his middle with the other flicked through the pages.

Neither of them had mentioned, but Mikasa knew they had both expected most of the fauna documented within the books to be native only to Marley. She could tell Armin was as surprised as she was when he found whole chapters dedicated to wildlife of the Hizurian jungles, and immediately sent Mikasa off to scavenge for plants that he read had healing properties.

She didn't had a huge amount of luck at first, but then discovered a whole bush of the stuff. She had almost walked past it too, and excitedly brought back bunches of leaves for Armin to examine. She had expected Armin to be the one to tend to Jean, after all he had done it every time before with Jean's ribs, but Armin pointed out he would barely move with his own wounds, so it was left to Mikasa.

Her fingers gently pressed against the joint. She didn’t think it was dislocated or anything. She hoped he hadn’t been able to use it due to shock of impact, and that there wasn't any long term damage done to his shoulder. With a sigh, she grabbed the role of gauze, and began to wind it around the joint.

She ignored her trembling fingers. Because she knew it was simply because of everything that had just happened; the fact that Jean was unconscious and Armin was healing from two bullet wounds while guarding a teenager and she had just murdered five people. People trying to save her. That that was the reason her cheeks warmed and her fingers gently shook as her touch danced against Jean's skin, cleaning the wound and pressing leaves into it.

***

Dinner had been a quite affair. Jean still hadn’t woken up yet, so Mikasa and Armin shared a loaf of bread the latter had bought at the Hizuru market.

Armin tore of a large chunk of the bread, handing it to Mikasa. When she looked at him questioning, he nodded at the kid.

“Probably better coming from you. You didn’t kill his father in front of his eyes.” Armin grimaced softly before turning back to his own meal. Mikasa glanced down at the bread in her hand, and then reached for her water bottle. It was half-full, but it would do.

They hadn’t tied him up. She had briefly considered it, but then realised that their only coil of rope had been cut apart.

There didn’t seem much point anyway. He still hadn’t moved from where he sat. The most he had done was for his eyes to flicker to the gun pointing at him before moving back to the body in front of him.

Just for good measure, Mikasa gripped the revolver in her hand as she neared him.

When he noticed her approach, his eyes moved to her, and she watched his tear-soaked face darken. With the gun still firmly pointed at him, she held out the bread to him. “Here.”

He eyed the bread, and reached a hand to take it.

Mikasa could feel every cell in her body tensing. She couldn’t even help it, it was as natural to holding her breath under water. An enemy was near, she must react.

He gripped the chunk of bed, and she released her hold of it. He gave her one dark look, before flinging it into the undergrowth.

Mikasa’s didn’t watch it sail into the darkness. Instead she focused her attention on the teenager. He was shouting at her, gesturing to the body and then to her and then to Armin behind her. Tears ran down his face, but she could see the fury within his eyes. The pure, unadulterated hatred.

In that split moment, she could tell he was going to launch himself at her and immediately her posture was ready, the gun pointed at his head.

“Hey!” Her finger flirted with the trigger, but she knew she wouldn’t pull it. Not yet. He had to be the one to make the first move.

She could see he was battling with himself, and she wondered would she have to add one more to her count. Kill one more of her people.

He paused before settling back down, his gaze burning into her as he spat at her. The wad of saliva landing on her chest. Mikasa didn’t break eye contact with him once, her finger still tight around the trigger.

She leaned down slowly, placing her water bottle by him before righting herself.

When she had backed a few steps and was near Armin, she turned around, feeling the boy glare into her back.

She sat down, reaching for a nearby leaf to whip over the spit from her. When she had finished, Armin’s gaze found hers. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to. His blue eyes, soft and gentle against her hard ones told her everything she needed. After a moment or so, Mikasa offered up a tired smile at him, and he held out his water bottle to her accepting hands.

He was close to her, but she shuffled the tiniest bit closer, until they were almost touching. She could feel his presence, the warmth of him, and she wanted to say something but she couldn’t figure out what.

In the end, she didn’t have to.

“Do you remember when we were younger? When those three bullies would always pick on me, and you and Eren had to come to my rescue?”

Mikasa scoffed softly. “Because you would never hit back. You just let them do it.”

“Yeah, but do you remember how pale they’d go when they’d see you and Eren running? And how Eren would always think it was him they were running from?” He laughed gently.

Mikasa smiled at the memory. “Do you remember that time Eren set up a trap, and I put on your cloak and lured them down the alley way –“

“- besides the stalls, right?”

“-right. And when they tried to punch me and I just went at them?” Mikasa chuckled, and Armin joined in, adding to the story.

“And then Eren was waiting outside with a stick, because he wanted to have the last hit?”

“I forgot about that! And he absolutely wacked one of them rounding the corner, but then it turned out to be –“

“Hannes! And Hannes marched him to his mother by his ear!” Armin finished the story, and together they laughed in the shared memory.

It had been so long Mikasa had been able to just relax like this, laugh and smile in the company of a friend. It was nice.

Also, when was the last time she had been able to dwell on a memory without being overcome with grief? There was a preciousness to this moment, and she knew it was a time she would look back on many years in the future.

And that’s how the two of them spent the evening. Laughing, sharing stories and memories. And when it grew cold, and Armin put an arm around her and pulled her near, she didn’t resist. She closed her eyes, her head resting on her shoulder and listened the gently thumping of his heart.

“How did I get so lucky Mikasa?”

The question made her scoff softly, because she had been thinking the exact same thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	57. Chapter Fifty seven - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has a dream and then wakes up to grass on his head 😇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS IN COMMENTS!!!

_Jean_

The wooden sword in his hand was heavier than usual. He changed his grip, looking down at it’s chipped edges. He should’ve gotten up earlier. By the time he always arrived all the good swords had been bagged, and all that was left were these bashed up things. It was probably even older than he was.

“Hey! Horse face! What time do you call this?” A voice called over to him, and Jean scoffed to himself, shaking his head with a chuckle. Honestly, the guy just went _looking_ for trouble.

“Time to kick your ass… as usual.” Jean called back, looked out over the fields around the training camp, his eye catching on the grey blur on the horizon. As long as everything went as planned, that was the closest he’d ever get to the Walls.

“Hah! _As usual?_ I must’ve hit your head harder than I thought last time I _beat you.”_ The taunting voice rose over the sounds of the clashes of wood from the couples around them, and Jean rolled his shoulders, smiling already. Because he was going to defeat Eren at this stupid sword exercise. And he was going to enjoy it.

“Wanna bet -?” He turned and then froze. The tip of a sword was pushed against his throat. A real sword. His smile faded as he looked at the man in front of him.

Eren.

His dead eyes surveyed Jean, the tip of the sword biting into Jean’s skin.

“I win.” The voice once so full of life was gone, replaced instead by a low tone of empty words.

Jean winced, raising his hand to his head. “Eren, what’s happening.” Around him, the world seemed to pulse, distorting itself in time to the pounding of his head.

“I told you, I win.” Eren gave Jean one last look, his eyes dull and empty, before pushing the sword forward.

The pressing and pounding of his head grew, and Jean gasped awake as the steel of the sword cut through him.

“Good morning.”

Jean blinked, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. Where had Eren gone? Who was this face looking at him upside down? Why was he on the ground? Why was his head-?

Jean hissed as another ache reverberated through him.

“I’m sorry, I’m nearly done applying the new batch of leaves.” Jean blinked at the face, willing his eyes to rid themselves of the after image of Eren.

Black hair, ashen eyes, the flick of a scar, rose lips, pointed chin-

“Mikasa.”

The word burnt his throat, and he winced, trying again.

“Mikasa what’s –“

“How're you feeling?” Her voice sounded strange to him, and Jean frowned as he tried to figure what was wrong. She leaned out of his sight, and suddenly the jungle’s canopy stretched before him. Of course, they were in the jungle – how had he forgotten that? Jean took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he mentally caught up on everything. Eren was dead. Armin and Mikasa were with him. Hizuru.

“Well?” He opened his eyes, and saw the jungle view had once more been replaced by Mikasa. She was close to him, her gaze focused on the side of head.

“Okay I guess. My throat is kinda sore.” He managed to get out, and she nodded sympathetically.

“Once I’ve finished dressing this, we’ll get you up and some water.”

It was then that Jean realised his pillow was warm. And moving.

Oh Christ.

His head.

On Mikasa’s lap.

His mind temporally short-circuited, and the only thing he was aware was the feel of her under him; how she was sitting on her knees and his head was resting on her thighs, her knees against his shoulders. And her fingers, which danced against his forehead, pressing bandages and leaves against him. Wait.

“May I ask why you’re holding foliage to my head.” He watched her eyes dart to him before returning to his wound.

“You can thank Magna’s book for them. Now, all done. Try sitting up, but slowly.” With a sense of great loss, Mikasa fingers left his head. She leaned back, away from his line of vision, clearly waiting for him to sit up.

With a slight grunt, he pushed his elbows into the grass, and slowly righted himself. Almost immediately the world seemed to spin. Cool fingers caught his upper arm, stopping him from falling back.

“It’s okay, just take your time.”

Jean blinked, and the world slowed spinning. Something was off. Her voice.

Jean turned back to Mikasa, frowning.

“What?” She kept her hands on him, and he could feel their coldness against his skin, which was strange because he –

He glanced down, his eyes widening when he saw the gapping cut in his shirt, running along the shoulder seam and down his right arm.

“Sorry, I needed access to your shoulder.” Mikasa interpreted his stunned look.

“That’s it again!” Her voice! He redirected his attention back to her, his frown increasing.

“What Jean?”

“Hey Jean, you okay?” Armin’s voice called over, and Jean looked over at his figure, sitting with a book in one hand and a gun in the other. A gun pointed at the teenager who tried to kill them both. He felt an irrational rush of relief at the sight of the boy; that he was still alive.

“It’s…” Jean struggled to put into words. “It’s like everything off-balance somehow. Your voices. They’re… different.” He looked back at Mikasa, almost pleading with her to understand him.

She frowned, raising her hand from his shoulder to the side of his ear and snapping her fingers. “You heard that okay?”

Jean nodded, and she reached around him, snapping her fingers beside his other ear.

Only she didn’t.

He looked at her, waiting, and she looked back at him. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

She did it again, and then he made it out. The click of her fingers. It was muffled though, as if swaths of fabric was being held against his ear.

Slowly, he raised his own hand to his ear, tapping against it gently. Muffled. Like being underwater.

Mikasa was looking at him, and her gently gaze immediately calming the panic Jean felt. “My ear-“

“It’s okay,” she gently reached around and took his hand, lowering it from his ear. “I’m sure the hearing come back, it’s probably left over trauma from your headwound.”

But Jean was already shaking his head, remembering. “It was the gun. The kid over there, we were wrestling and he fired it, and it missed but only just. I remember the ringing sound the gun made, the pain that exploded in my ear.”

Mikasa paled, and Jean looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

She began to speak, but then paused, and when she finally did her voice was impossible soft. “You came that close to being killed?”

Jean shrugged. “I guess, but no closer than basically any day in the Scout’s, right?”

He could feel her gaze on him, and was beginning to feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He tried to stand, but did it too quickly and would’ve fell had Mikasa not caught him.

She sighed sharply, holding his weight. “A heads up would've been nice Jean.”

“Sorry.” He realised then that he was literally leaning nearly on top of her, his body pressed against hers and he blushed, righting himself. “Sorry.” He whispered again, purposely avoiding looking at Mikasa.

“Come on, can you walk?” If she noticed how embarrassed he seemed, she tactfully ignored it, her arm still looped around him.

He nodded. His legs were fine. As long as the world stayed stationary and wasn’t tempted to spin on him again, he should be okay.

“Well, let’s just go over to where Armin and see how you manage that. If it’s any motivation there’s a lump of bread beside him with your name on.”

Jean looked at her, his lips twitching into a smile. “You know me so well Mikasa.”

She looked back at him, rolling her eye affectioning. “Of course I do. Now, one step at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa - you could've died  
> Jean, unleashing his inner Erwin - Just another day for the Survey Corp!🤪
> 
> ALSO, so I'm up to date with the manga! And boy do I have some ✨thoughts✨ so I think I'll just whack them in the comments. I'd love to hear your opinions on the ending, but tbh I just need to put my thoughts down somewhere 😅 so apologies, but SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS!!! ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK🤺🤺🤺


	58. Chapter Fifty eight - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one, and the next two I think are my favourite consecutive POVs of the three :')  
> Hope you guys enjoy them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks again for all your support on the stories, and especially for all the comments 🥰 Hearing your thoughts on the story is my favourite part of writing and uploading these chapters💖 So thank you!

_Armin_

“How are the bullet holes Armin?” Jean said in a surprisingly chipper voice as he attacked his chunk of bread.

Armin looked at him before looking down at himself. Even though he knew he as fully healed, he still hadn’t removed his hand from around his middle. Gingerly he raised his arm, examining the bloody shirt, ripped by the shots.

He could feel Jean’s gaze on him as he slowly lifted his top up. Jean whistled appreciatively at the bloodied but now unblemished skin. Armin ran a finger along the muscles, flakes of dried blood peeling off. Yet again, he should be dead.

“I sure could do with that ability on this trip.” Jean said as he dove into the bread, and Armin looked at him. _No, never wish that Jean._

His gaze moved from Jean to the boy behind him. He still hadn’t moved much, his arms wrapped around his knees and his head resting against them. The water bottle untouched beside him.

“Do you think he’s realised yet that I should be dead? Rather than completely healed? Has he realised something’s amiss?” Armin asked, and both Mikasa and Jean turned to the boy.

Jean didn’t reply, but Armin noticed how his gaze softened as he looked at the teenager.

“No. He won’t have.” Mikasa’s voice was unusually quiet, and the two men looked at her. She ignored them, her gaze still focused on the teenager. “He won’t have realised anything other than the fact his father is dead. Probably in the future he’ll think back and suddenly remember that detail; the fact he shot you twice and the next morning you were walking about, but he’ll blame shock, the weakness of memory. At the moment all he will be able to think of is the moment he saw his father being killed.” Her voices faded away.

Armin looked away, a faint glow colouring his cheeks. Of course Mikasa would know. How could he have been so tactless?

He noticed Jean had realised Mikasa wasn’t just thinking about one parent-less child, and his eyes were gentle as he looked at her before returning to his bread.

“Do you think we should bury them?” Mikasa asked abruptly, looking back between them.

Armin smiled sadly at her. “Do you have a shovel? It would be nearly impossible to clear the undergrowth here without one.”

Mikasa nodded, and looked back at the boy. “It feels wrong to just leave them.”

Once more her voice trailed away, and after a suitable length of silence Jean cleared his throat.

“What’s the plan with him?” Jean nodded at the teenager, as if there was anyone else he could be referencing to. “I presume we’re letting him go?” There was an edge to his voice.

Armin nodded, and he could see Jean visibly relax. “Once you’ve finished your bread we’ll get moving. The first time that we passed the group they were going in the opposite direction, so hopefully the boy will go down the hill while we go up. He'll reach the villages at the bottom of the jungle when we reach the town up ahead. By the time that village is alerted to what’s happened, we’ll be long gone.” He was so tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding. Tired of the death.

He could tell Jean felt the same way, and ran a hand through his hair as he grimaced. He caught Armin’s eye, and Armin knew they were both thinking the same thing.

They couldn’t run from this forever. The boy would eventually reach home, and then the entire town would know what had happened, would have descriptions of the three of them. Their head start could only last so long, their luck stretch for only so far, until they were caught. Until their sins finally caught up with them.

“Jean.” Armin’s voice was gentle. “When we’re caught, you need to say I forced you here.”

He was aware of Mikasa turning to them, but focused on Jean, willing him to understand.

Jean shook his head firmly. “Listen Armin, I don’t care what –“

“Jean please.” He pleaded with him. “Please promise me you’ll say I made you come here. I forced you, both of you, on this trip. And this –“ He raised his hands and gestured about. “It was all me; I killed them all. Like Mikasa said, the boy was in shock, he forget that in the midst of the chaos, I went to find Mikasa, I was the one who killed the others.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, and when he spoke he did so softly. “Armin that’s –“

“Armin, no offense, but nobody’s going to believe that. That you singlehandedly took out six men and women.” Mikasa’s gaze pierced through him, and Armin took a deep breath, trying to reign his emotions in. He was just so tired. Why couldn’t they promise him this one thing.

“Mikasa, it doesn’t matter what –“

“They’ll know from a mile off it was me, and –“

“And it won’t matter!” Armin exclaimed, and when he spoke again his voice was soft once more. “Because Mikasa, do you really think Madam Azumabito would let one of her own get involved in something like this? You’ll be absolved quietly, and without fuss go up north to them. Jean’s the only one here in danger, but as long as he manages to convince them that I forced him to accompany me on this trip hopefully they’ll release him. They'll be too distracted by having the Colossal Titan in their grasp to care about one person.”

“And where do you fit into all this Armin? What about you.” Jean got in there before Mikasa could, and Armin smiled sadly at him.

“I don’t matter. Too many people have died for me already. As long as you two are safe, I don’t care what happens.”

Jean frowned, and opened his mouth to reply but now it was Mikasa’s turn to cut across. “And what about us, Armin? You think Jean will just happily throw you under the bus, set sail home? You think I’ll just skip off to the Azumabitos without a backwards glance? We love you as much as we love each other, there’s no way in hell either of us will just leave you here to, what, take the blame? Be executed? Or would you prefer to be eaten?” Mikasa's voice was deadly low. She only shouted when she was mad, when she seethed like this he knew she was raging.

_We love you as much as we love each other…_

The words had an immediate effect on Jean. His head snapped up to her, his skin now violently red as he stared at her. She clearly hadn’t realised what she had said, and was looking at Armin, her nostrils flared.

“Didn’t you listen to me Mikasa? I don’t care what happens to me, as long as you two are safe, I don't care about myself. I have less than a year left anyway! It doesn’t matter.” Armin spoke slowly, trying to continue the conversation before she had a moment to realise what exactly she had said.

She just looked at him, and then shook her head. _“I_ care what happens to you. _Jean_ cares what happens to you. And…” She paused, as if considering whether to say her next sentence. “You might… There might be hope. Hope for Ymir’s Curse… At the end of this journey.”

Eren.

Armin looked at her, at how wide her eyes were, the hope and desperation mixing within. He smiled at her, the weight of all the lives he had taken over the years feeling impossibly heavy. She still believed they would find Eren at the end of this journey; that he would be able to break the curse for him. She still thought that there was a chance for Armin.

“He cares for you Armin, I know he does. If he can, he’ll break the curse in an instant. He cares for us all.”

Abruptly Jean pushed himself into a stand. He swayed for a moment, before leaning over and grabbing his satchel.

“It’s about time we leave don’t you think?”

His voice was soft, and although he was facing the two of them, he was looking firmly at their feet.

“Not until you promise me that if we’re caught, you’ll say I forced you.” Jean gaze rose to meet Armin’s. His eyes were void of the light that usual glittered within him, and Armin wondered what part of the conversation had caused the change. What part was making him take shallow, shuddering breathes.

“Fine. Fine, okay. I promise to completely and unceremoniously throw you under the bus. Now tell the kid he can go and let’s leave this damn place.” Jean gave one last look at the teenager, and turned away, looking as if he could cry. Armin felt a great surge of emotion for his friend, for all three of them - the hopeless fools that they were.


	59. Chapter Fifty nine - Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I really want to thank you all for such a wonderful response on the last few chapters! It really does make my day to read your comments, and some of the comments from yesterday's chapters truly made my week 💖 You are such lovely people, I'm so lucky to have such wonderful readers 🥰 I haven't had time to respond to all of the comments yet as I'm rushing to upload this chapter before I have a Zoom call (honestly what a lockdown term, can't wait until Zoom calls are things firmly in the past!), but do know I really do appreciate it so so so much 💖  
> Also, just a heads up I decided to try something different, and next chapter will just be detailing the same thing, only from Jean's POV. I know it slows the pace down, but I hope you guys like the next two chapters! I'd really appreciate to know your thoughts on it, and if you wouldn't mind one or two more chapters like this in the future, or if one POV for each event/conversation would be better! Thanks so much, and enjoy!

_Mikasa_

Mikasa watched Jean turn away, her frown deepening. She grabbed her own satchel, swinging it over her shoulder as Armin did the same.

“Here.”

She looked up, a gun’s grip pointed at her. Armin smiled softly, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You’d better be the one to free him.”

For a moment Mikasa debated not accepting the gun. Because she was still angry at Armin; angry that he assumed she would willingly abandon him, angry that he would accept the blame for her killings, but most of all she was furious that he had brought up the fact he only had a year left. Because somewhere amongst all the walking and the collecting peas in Magna’s garden and the chatting with her two boys, she had managed to forget about it. About Ymir’s Curse, about his finite life expectancy. His comment had brought it all back, the fact he only had less than a year left, the fact Eren was their only hope now. The fact she could lose him so soon.

But with a sigh she took the cool handle. She knew he was right; he was right about it all.

“Thank you.” Armin whispered softly, and she wasn’t sure what for but she nodded.

The boy didn’t look at her when she approached, and it was only when she had stopped a meter away from him did he seem even aware of her.

He side eyed her, taking in the gun pointing at him before ignoring her again. The water bottle remained where she had left it, untouched.

“Hey. You can go.” Mikasa felt like an idiot speaking a language he couldn’t understand, but didn’t know how else to go about communicating to the boy. He ignored her anyway, as always.

“Look,” She gestured behind her, “we’re leaving, we’re gone. You can go home.”

He didn’t react to her, and she briefly looked behind her. Armin was by the bushes, collecting a whole wad of leaves for Jean’s bandages in the future, and Jean was changing out of his torn shirt. Neither of them were looking at her.

She looked down at the gun, her finger whispering along the barrel of it. The steel was cool, and she wondered how old it was, how long the boy’s papa had owned it. How long had he been in possession of the gun which would one day kill him?

She gazed at the boy, kneeling in front of her. He was the only when left. The only one to survive out of the party. The only one left to tell tales.

She stopped trailing the barrel, and gripped the gun with two hands now. Her finger curved against the trigger.

Just one squeeze.

That was all it would take.

And they would be absolved, the deaths forever a mystery. Armin would be safe; Jean would be safe. She would be safe.

She looked down at the boy, breathing deeply. She could just tell the other two he had lunged at her, attacked her.

He had tried to kill Jean, came woefully close to doing it. He had shot Armin twice. It was retribution. It was deserved.

What was one more death in all this? What was one more lie. What did it matter? She had already killed the other five; five of her people, five men and women who had wanted to save her. What consequence was there for another body to be added to the pile.

_What did one life matter?_

Mikasa slowly lowered the gun, releasing the trigger with a trembling finger.

Before she could do or say anything, she turned away, walking back to Armin. The gun seemed impossibly heavy, and when she held it out for Armin to take back, she hoped he didn’t notice how it shook slightly.

A life was a life.

She briefly closed her eyes. What had she nearly done? Who really was she now?

***

They walked in silence. The boy stayed where he was, and the last Mikasa saw of him was a moment before she turned the path’s corner, and a wall of trees went to hide him from them. He was still kneeling, looking blanking towards his father’s body. He didn’t even seem to notice they had left. She quickly turned back to Armin and Jean in front of her.

She knew neither of them particularly wanted to talk, and normally Mikasa would be the same, silent as she shifted and sorted through her emotions.

But there was too much. She knew that the attack had rattled each of them, and that’s why Armin had sounded so tired and Jean had looked so shaken and she had gotten so angry. They were overstrung, overemotional.

But for the first time in a long time she couldn’t bear to be left with her own thoughts. Because there were so many things whirling around in her mind, and she was too tired to try and capture and label and put them in order like she normally would do.

_The way Jean’s shoulder is still limp and how Armin might get eaten and Eren what if he can’t help Armin and what will he think when he sees me again, why had he abandoned me for long and the feel of my fingers against Jean’s hair as I tucked leaves against the wound and the teenager I almost shot and the people who had tried to save me, because I hadn’t thought how suspicious it looked to have my hands tied and –_

Mikasa squeezed shut her eyes. Two many things; too many images that flashed through her thoughts and emotions that bubbled up. She couldn’t repress them by herself, she needed help. She needed distraction.

She looked at Armin, and the blonde hair which was beginning to grow scruffy, growing uneven. Armin who knew if they were caught for Mikasa’s killings, would lose the last year of his life; either in prison and by death. Armin who she had fallen asleep on last night, his presence as familiar as her own thoughts to her at this stage. Armin who, if they didn’t find Eren, would die. Armin who she couldn’t think about without her heart aching, and who she definitely wasn’t ready to talk to in her current state.

Leaving Jean.

She wordlessly slipped past Armin, jumping over gnarled roots to reach Jean. She knew Armin wouldn’t mind, she could tell he was in a mood to be left alone.

Actually they both were, but she hoped Jean wouldn’t mind her company. Because she really couldn’t bare her own right now.

“Jean,” She began, and when he didn’t look at her, she began to think of something to say. “Jean how’s your shoulder.”

“Fine.” He was curt, and still hadn’t looked at her. Mikasa didn’t react, instead examined his face. He stared straight ahead, his eyes troubled. No, not troubled. Angry.

Mikasa frantically went through everything that had transpired in the last half hour. Had she inadvertently offended him? It wouldn’t be the first time she spoke without thinking. Her words had hurt him before.

But they had been on the same side of the argument, hadn’t they? They had agreed to protect Armin, questioned him together.

The path trampled down over the foliage wasn’t quite wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and Mikasa had to consistently dodge nettles and hanging branches.

Jean still had barely acknowledged her, and normally Mikasa would just take the hint. He didn’t want to talk to her. It was fine, she’d ignored him plenty of times before.

But at the moment it wasn’t fine. Because she had just nearly shot a child in cold-blood, because she was finally at her ancestral home, and one of the first things she did was a massacre. Because she was afraid to be left alone with her thoughts, and she felt like Jean was the only one she’d be able to find comfort in.

Because she needed Jean.

She blushed at the thought, but didn’t leave his side, ducking onto a stray branch.

“Is it your ribs?”

“My ribs are fine.” He answered tersely, and Mikasa _knew_ she should just leave him alone. But she couldn’t dare to.

She felt on edge, every muscle tensing. She must’ve done something, must’ve hurt him without meaning to. Yet again.

“You’re mad at me.” She made sure to make the statement as flat as possible. As if she didn’t care either way, as if her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest, waiting for his answer.

His frown deepened, and she watched him open his mouth, glancing at her before closing it as he looked away. She couldn’t fail to notice the hardness in his eyes, the pain as he looked at her.

Jean sighed, tension releasing from his shoulder as his body slumped. As if he was conceding a battle within.

When he spoke, his voice was soft, pained and vulnerable. “No, of course I’m not mad at you Mikasa. I’m mad at myself.” She watched him as he grimaced, rubbing a hand against his chest.

She felt an overwhelming rush of relief engulf her, before being replaced by concern for him.

She wondered had he always been this difficult to read; this enigma of emotions that he always wore on his sleeve. He was so different to her. She, who always knew exactly what emotion she felt, who always maintained control, and if she wouldn’t then she would bury and repress the feelings until she could. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like; the way Jean _felt_ so deeply. The way his emotions; desire and joy and pain and empathy and hurt, how they overtook him, controlled him.

His actions were bound to his heart, not his head, and it was such a foreign concept to Mikasa. The way the sentiments fused and mixed across his face, staining one another until she couldn’t even figure out what he was feeling, only that he was feeling it profoundly.

Had his emotions always been this confusing, this impossible to decipher to her? She thought not, thought she had once been better at reading him. But now she wondered if he had just been better at hiding it from her. Hiding these emotions that tore through him.

She didn’t say anything to him, allowing her silence to far better communicate what her words could not. That she was listening. That she was here.

“Mikasa…” His voice trailed away, and she could see him battling himself with what to say. He gave a half-laugh, but it was tinged with pain and he stopped. She ducked another overhanging branch, her gaze firmly on him.

Momentarily, his eyes met hers, but he quickly looked away, back to looking ahead. The hardness of before had gone, instead replaced by sorrow.

And then he froze, his demeanour completely transforming into one of shock. Before she could react fully his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

Even though her mind was slow, her body was not. It was immediately tensing, preparing to fight. One hand whipped around for the knife in her bag as her gaze looked ahead, at what Jean was seeing.

Immediately she gasped, frozen like Jean.

It couldn’t be.

It was impossible.

There. Up ahead on the path, partially hidden by vegetation.

Stood –

Mikasa shook her head, willing the specter to have vanished when she opened her eyes.

Because it couldn’t be.

It simply couldn’t be.

The dead cannot return.


	60. Chapter Sixty - Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awwww I really adore this chapter, it's definitely one of my favourite chapters of the story so far🥺💖 2000 words of bby Jean 💖 Hope you guys enjoy x  
> Also I don't want to spoil anything, but someone guessed correctly in the comments of the last chapter of who the figure is! (but I'm not going to say which comment haha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so cruel to make ye wait long for the chapter after this one! So chapter 61 is currently being edited and will be up in a few hours x

_Jean._

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and sob and tear his hair out. Because in that moment, he really despised himself.

_We love you as much as we love each other._

The words that replayed in his head, over and over and over. No matter how hard he tried to break the record, it just kept playing. It was on repeat, her words, and it was all Jean could think about.

The power they had had on him. The sensation of every nerve within him coming alive as he stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Wondering had she really just said the words she did. _We love you as much as we love each other._

She hadn’t even realised what she had said, she was so caught up in the argument. But Armin had. His gaze flickering to Jean before he valiantly continued talking to Mikasa.

And for maybe a minute Jean could barely think. All he could concentrate on were her words.

_We love you as much as we love each other._

His heart was alight, burning intensely with the flame he thought he had long extinguished.

Then she threw the proverbial water over him.

_He still cares for you Armin... He cares for us all._

Of course. Of course. He was such an idiot. Because he had inflated her words to mean something they most certainly didn’t, and then it was Mikasa’s turn to burst his hope, to let him fall back to reality.

Because now that he thought back, her words were nothing more than comforts to a friend. She was saying she cared for Armin as much as she did for Jean; that she wouldn’t abandon him. Because she loved him like a friend, loved him the same way she did for Jean. But not in the way she loved Eren, _never_ in the way she loved Eren.

And that was all Jean was to her; all he could ever hope to be to her. A friend. He should be happy with that, he thought he _was_ happy with that. Hadn’t he already made peace with it?

Then why had he felt the flame flickering in his chest again when she had spoken those words? He was pathetic.

When they finally got home, home home, he should go out. Start going to the pubs in Trost, chat with locals, regale them with war stories while making eyes with the waitress. He should restart his life.

He was charismatic when he wanted to be, charming and sly. He could charm a girl, captivate her with his smile and prestige from his time in the Scouts. Find a girl who hadn’t sworn her heart to another, a girl who could love him and only him. A girl who’d kiss him, and smile when her lips were still on his, because she loved him so.

Armin and Mikasa would be happy for him, happy they no longer had their plus one, their tag along. Happy that he no longer acted like a love-sick puppy, happy he had finally grown up. They would stay in their hut and then when Armin succumbed to the Curse of Ymir Mikasa would be alone, but she’d be happy. Or maybe not happy, but content. Because she could spent her whole day tending Eren’s memorial without Jean’s gaze on her and could spent her nights cleaning the house without having to worry about Jean ruining it with his muddy shoes.

They would get married, him and girl, and he would finally accept that high-up job he got offered each year. They’d raise a family, a hoard of babies and toddlers and children of varying heights, who would run to him, putting their hands up to be picked up by their dearest papa.

He could do it. And why shouldn’t he? He deserved it, surely. He had spent eight years trying to save Armin’s life, eight long years hoping Mikasa would suddenly see him. He’d had this hopeless infatuation, this heartache for thirteen years now, wasn’t that enough. Surely he deserved to finally be loved. Surely he could grant himself that at least.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he would go and do it, he knew it was empty words and shallow promises. He knew in his heart he could never be that cruel. Allow a girl to fall in love with him, to give him her entirety, knowing full well he would never be able to fully love her back. Not completely. He wouldn’t put someone through what he had been putting himself through all these years. He wasn’t that cruel, that selfish.

But that was besides the point. Because even in his mind, the wife who would smile when she kissed him had straight, dark hair, eyes the colour of rusted silver. A faint scar across her cheek. And the hoards of children who called for him took after their mother. He knew now there was nothing he could do about it.

_We love you as much as we love each other._

Those simple words had unlocked the truth he had been ignoring. The truth that had crept up on him, infringing on his thoughts and encroaching on his mind. The truth.

His heart still belonged to Mikasa.

It always had, and it always would. Even though she thought of him as nothing more than a friend, even though she was hopelessly in love with the boy who died eight years previous. He still loved her.

So he was mad. He was furious. At himself and his heart and his mind.

Because he had tried so hard to severe what he felt for her, to abandon the dream he once had. And he had succeeded. He remembered watching her scrub the couch, a few days before they left, and for the first time seeing her without rose-tinted glasses. Seeing who she really was.

Mikasa.

And for awhile it had stuck. He was no longer pitifully trying to please her, looking longingly at her when he thought nobody saw. On the early dregs of their journey, he treated her how he thought she deserved to be treated; and if he disagreed with something she said he sure as hell wasn’t afraid to let her know.

They clashed, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, and sometimes she made him so frustrated, so mad he wondered how he had ever felt anything for her. And he could tell from the glares she would give him through Marley she was wishing they’d just left him behind.

It had felt good. He had succeeded. He had severed the emotions he had felt for her since he was a child. He had made peace with the fact she would never love him, and he had finally moved on. Mikasa was just a person to him, someone whose flaws and weaknesses he no longer avoided to acknowledge. She was just a person. A friend.

And that was why he was so angry at himself.

Because somewhere between bumpy ferry trips and pealing potatoes and walking in rain and trudging through jungles, he had managed to fall back in love with her. All over again.

And this was different then before. It was worse.

Because there was no childhood crush to blame, no innocent teenage dream.

Because he had reduced her to nothing more than a person to him. Almost a stranger. A stranger whose faults he purposely saw, whose opinions he purposely argued with.

And still he had fallen for her. He still became mesmerized by her presence, still longed for her touch. The coolness she provided when her fingers had skimmed and pressed against his head. The way her touch abated the innate warmth that lived within him, the heat that sometimes threatening to devour him.

He saw her clearly, saw her entirely, saw her sullen moods and emotionless expressions, stubborn arguments and cold nature. Saw everything. Her faults and her flaws and her weaknesses.

But he had also seen her warmth, her strength, her loyalty. The way she smiled when she thought no-one was looking, the way she cried when she feared she had harmed them. How she always took the longest part of the watch, always gave herself the smallest portion of the rations.

And so softly he barely even noticed it happening, his heart fell for her. All over again. He knew now it always would. No matter how many times he tried to distance himself from his emotions, no matter how many times he repressed his feelings, made Mikasa no more than a stranger. It would always happen, he would always fall back in love with her. Because even as a stranger, she captivated him. Even as a stranger she could capture his heart and soul with her dark eyes and thin smiles and undying loyalty.

_You’re free now._

Hadn’t he promised that to her? Promised that he was free from his feelings for her, and that she was free from his longing?

He couldn’t keep it for himself now. He realised that - that he would never be free of her. That even if he moved away, even if he stopped seeing and talking to her, she would linger in his thoughts and her breath would be a ghost against his heart.

But he could keep it for her. She would still be free of him; she wasn’t bound to him. He’d keep it this way, keep his promise. That was his gift to her, the final testament of his love for her. This torrent of emotion he felt would remain a secret, a dark confession he would never share.

She was free. Free from him, free from his unrelenting feelings. They were friends. And that was it.

He could hear light footsteps behind him, and he quickly dragged a sleeve across his eyes. Kick a man when he’s down and all that.

She was beside him, and even though he knew that she was looking at him, he remained staring ahead. _Why_ did she have to chose this time to accompany him? Any other step of the walk he would’ve loved her company. Why did she have to chose now?

“Jean, how’s your shoulder.” Her voice was soft, and in any other instance he would’ve been touched by her concern.

“Fine.” He answered sharply, internally begging her to leave him alone. Just this one time. Just let him figure out the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Is it your ribs?”

She must’ve noticed his mood, the pain in his face.

“My ribs are fine.” He was curt. Get the message Mikasa.

“You’re mad at me.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, and Jean was so close to agreeing. _Yes I am._ He could push her away, make her hate him. Or even worse, reduce her feelings for him down until it was how she’d been when they first met. Just… _disinterested_ in him. Indifferent. He could do it, severe whatever friendship they had.

He wanted to use harsh words, pick like a crow at her weaknesses until she bled. Not to purposely hurt her. Nor because he was angry at her. Just so she would hate him. It was self-preservation.

Because Armin was right. Mikasa _had_ been acting differently around him. At Magna’s when they had cooked together and laughed and chatted; on this trail, when he felt her eyes on him when she thought he wouldn’t notice; yesterday, when she paled when she heard how close he came to dying.

Individually they were nothings, but together they felt like something. And he _knew_ it was just because he was her friend, because she felt at ease in his company and cared for him.

But he couldn’t bare it. It was death by a thousand cuts.

Because stupid shit like this happened, where his heart blossomed for her, and she trampled on it without noticing. She would let herself open up the tiniest bit for Jean, lower her guard, and he immediately would think it was something different. Something bigger. And then he would have to remind himself, all over again, that it wasn’t. Over and over, breaking his stupid, pathetic heart.

He knew her soul was promised to someone else, and whether or not they found him at the end of this journey wouldn’t matter. She still loved Eren. She always had and she always would.

He opened her mouth to agree, to use words with hard edges and a cruel nature. To cut her so deeply she would never dare let her guard down around him. Self-preservation and all that.

He turned to her, and the words froze in his mouth. Because it was Mikasa.

And he could never hurt her, couldn’t extinguish the light in her eyes. His heart be damned.

“No, I’m not mad at you… I’m mad at myself.” He sighed, and he brought his hand to his chest, rubbing at the ache he felt within.

“Mikasa…” For one wild, ludicrous moment he imaged saying it all, everything he was feeling. _Hey Mikasa listen I’ve been in love with you since the first day I ever saw you, that day remember when I complimented your hair and had my first fight with Eren? Wild times hahah anywho I know you’ll never feel the same way, but super quick PSA could you please stop pretending to like me? I know you’re just being a good friend but it makes my heart flutter and sometimes I feel I might even have a chance with you before I remember there’s no way in hell, and it hurts, it really fucking hurts. So you know you keep being you, but any chance you could stop, you know, paying me so much attention? Thanks so much babe, love you (but unrequited of course haha)._

He half laughed under his breath, but it felt untrustworthy enough that it could transform into a sob so he stopped.

She didn’t say anything, but he could feel the intensity in her gaze. He glanced briefly at her, but looked away quickly. He couldn’t bare the concern he saw on her face. Concern for him.

_And while we’re on the subject 'Kasa, can you stop being all worried for my wellbeing? Because I keep kidding myself it’s more than just a friend thing, and then I have to remind myself you know the whole she-doesn’t-love-you-she-barely-thinks-of-you reality._

Jean pushed the thought down, and tried to focus on something else. To distract himself from the ache in his chest, the tears that threatened to spill. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything,_ when he froze, feeling all the colour drain from his face.

Without thinking he grabbed her arm, as if to anchor himself to reality, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Because there, up ahead on the path.

“Is that-?”

“No, it can’t be.”

He blinked, squinting at the figure ahead of them.

“It is.”

It was Sasha.

Their Sasha.

Sasha Blouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I would consider this chapter one of the most important ones in the entire story. Obviously not plot wise, but in terms of Jeankasa I really do believe it is central to their story. When I set out to write their relationship, I promised myself 2 things - that Jean's love for Mikasa would be something other than a childhood crush, and Mikasa's love for Jean wouldn't simply be a rebound / 2nd best to Eren. I really wanted to show that as adults, they loved each other simply for who they were, not for any other external reasons.  
> So for me it was super important to establish that Jean didn't like simply Mikasa from a leftover childhood crush. For their relationship to be fully healthy (or what I would think to be so), I wanted Jean to love Mikasa for who she is as an adult, rather than a residue infatuation from what she had looked like as a teenager. To show even if they had met now as adults, he would still fall for her.  
> I dunno, it just kinda felt weird to me otherwise? For Jean as an adult to be pining after Mikasa simply because he still had a teenage crush on her? And for them to have developed as individuals, but his crush to have remained stagnant, that of a child's infatuation?  
> Anyway, enough rambling. I guess I just really love this chapter because it delves so much into Jean's thoughts, and could be considered as The pivotal point for Jean - finally accepting his feelings as a grown adult for Mikasa :') Sigh, I just love Jean so darn much.  
> I also like the closing of the chapter too lol


	61. Chapter Sixty one - Armin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely nothing to do with a summary, but I finally got a profile icon!!! Haha it's totally shameful how happy I am now 😂 I spent ages trying to figure out the murky depths that is artist copyright, and in the ended decided to avoid any potential headaches and just use an old sketch (my nightmares always involve a strongly worded email from an accidently uncredited artist 😂😰) Haha honestly I don't even know why I am, but I'm so happy, I just smile every time I see my icon is no longer just the default one😂 Anyway, sorry haha on with the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw wow you guys are truly the bestest! Honestly thank you so much for all the wonderful comments on the last few chapters - I simply adore reading your thoughts, and I always love reading what theories you have! And also, thank you so so so so much for 7,000 hits!!!! I feel like at this stage it's a tradition for me to not know how to articulately say how grateful I am, so I always just go for "unreal". So here it is - Unreal!!!! Honestly thank ye so so so so much! I feel so fortunate and grateful for every hit, kudo, comment and bookmark 💖🥰 I hope you all enjoy the next few chapters :)

_Armin_

Armin was too shocked too move. He just stood there, staring beside the other two.

“Is that-?” He began, before being cut off by Mikasa.

“No, it can’t be.”

“It is.” Jean’s voice was soft as all three of them stared through the undergrowth at the figure just visible behind it.

Sasha.

Her dark hair was swept in a loose ponytail, and she was wearing dark trousers and a fitted shirt under a large jacket. She was turned away from them, opening a food bag. She clearly hadn’t seen them yet. She was only visible through a gap in the foliage, and must be up ahead, beyond a corner of the path.

Armin watched, almost unable to think as she stretched, talking to someone hidden from their view. Her head turned to the side, her dark eyes thoughtful as she chewed on some dried meat.

Armin knew the three of them were thinking it. If they left this space and went to investigate, for a moment she would be hidden by the vegetation, gone from their gaze. And what if she disappeared? What if this was the only chance they had to look at Sasha, the first time for eight long years.

Mikasa let out a soft sob, her hand raised to her mouth.

Sasha.

She turned then, and from their limited view half-disappeared. Armin shuffled to the side, trying to make out more of her from a tree blocking their vision.

She spoke again around her food, but her voice was so soft they could barely make it out amongst all the sounds of the jungle. She looked up, clearly at whoever she was addressing, and then another figure come into view.

A palpable ripple of shock travelled through the three. It was man, his back to them so Armin couldn’t make out his face. He could tell he was young though, perhaps early twenties, with neat, blond hair and tanned skin. He looked familiar; in fact he looked like –

“Falco?!” Jean reacted first, and before Mikasa or Armin could move he had marched around the corner.

Mikasa and Armin scrambled from their shock and followed Jean. They cleared the corner, bypassing the mass of foliage and there was the clearing. Up ahead. The figures were sitting, relaxing.

Armin felt his mouth open, and close, and then open again. He blinked, struggling to take in what he was seeing. His mind couldn’t quite comprehend it.

A man, a woman and a sleeping child. The two adults jumped up when they saw the three of them, immediately tensing as they took Armin, Mikasa and Jean in.

“Jean?” The man spoke first, looking at the group, and Armin forced his attention to him first. “Jean, Mikasa, Armin?”

“Falco?” The shock all three of them felt was captured in Jean’s voice. “What -?”

It was Falco. He smiled, and although there was still tension in his expression his smile grew into a grin. Falco who had stayed with them, Falco who had accompanied them to Marley, Falco who they had most definitely left _in_ Marley. Falco who was standing in front of them.

“What are you-? Why are you-?” Jean gulped, each question going unfinished. Armin looked at Mikasa, the way her eyes was trained in on the woman. On Sasha.

But now that Armin was closer, now there was no foliage to blur the view, he could see it wasn’t Sasha. Not quite. She was slightly different. Her face rounder, her nose sharper. The similarities were still breath-taking; between this stranger and their Sasha.

The woman was watching them, but when she saw the way Armin and Mikasa were staring she quickly looked away. Her cheeks flushed as she stared down at the ground, clearly feeling their forceful gazes.

Armin suddenly thought back to the photo Magna had showed him, of Udo and his friends. Of Falco and Zofia. And -

“Gabi?” Armin frowned, trying to connect the stubborn child he remembered to the woman in front of him. Her gaze flickered back to them, and she managed a small smile.

“Hi.”

“Oh.” That was the only sound Mikasa made, her mouth open as she stared at the woman; the almost-Sasha. Mikasa gently lowered herself to the ground, and Armin watched the ways her hands shook slightly against the dirt.

“Mikasa-?”

“I’m fine, I just need… just need to sit.”

“Er,” a faint blush formed on Falco’s cheeks as he gestured to her behind him. “I guess it’s been awhile, this is Gabi –“

“Gabi.” Almost too stunned to move, Jean laughed softly, repeating her name. “Gabi.”

Gabi. Not Sasha.

 _Of course_ not Sasha. Sasha had been killed.

By Gabi.

“I know I’m probably the last person you guys ever want to see again, and I completely understand that what I did was unforgiveable and –“ She moved forward, her hands open palms forward, as if the three of them were about to arrest her. She was pleading with them, and Armin took in her hurried speech, the guilt in her eyes, and felt a streak of pity for the girl.

“It’s not that Gabi, don’t worry. You just… You look different. You’ve grown up.” He offered her a tired yet reassuring smile. Beside him, Mikasa had buried her head in her hands and Jean still seemed too shocked to comprehend what he was seeing.

Falco coughed nervously. “Well, I’m glad to see you guys. We’ve actually been looking for you, didn’t expect for you to find us instead!” He offered a jittery smile, frowning though when he took them in again.

“Although, don’t mind me saying this, but you are looking rough. What happened?”

“Well seeing a kid you’ve left in Marley in the middle of a Hizuru rainforest will do that to you.” Jean had clearly recovered enough from the shock to be making smart comments.

Armin frowned, going over Falco’s words. “You were looking for us?”

Falco looked at Armin, nodding softly. “Yes we were going to –“

He was interrupted by the sound of a child, and all of them turned to the girl who had been asleep; forgotten in all the chaos.

“Falco? Gabi? What’s going on?” She blinked sleepily, looking at the two.

Falco immediately went over to her, kneeling as he spoke softly. Her gaze moved from him to the other three, and her darks eyes widened.

“Falco…” Jean growled, clearly following Armin’s shocked train of thought. “Please tell me you and Gabi have a secret kid you’ve never told us about. _Please_ do not tell me this girl is who I think she is.”

Gabi blushed violently, but didn’t look away from the group. Falco looked back, offering a rueful smile at them.

“Falco.” Armin whispered softly. “What have you done?”

“Guys, meet Cirila. Cirila meet – well you already know who they are, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH!!!! MY BBY FALCO's FINALLY BACK 😭😭💖🧍


End file.
